The Pure Blood Wolf
by purplerawr
Summary: As punishment for his father's mistakes, Draco is bitten by Fenrir Greyback. Narcissa asks Severus to take him somewhere safe and he can only think of one place... which happens to be where Harry Potter will be spending most of his summer. ON HIATUS!
1. Changing

The Pureblood Wolf

Author: purplerawr

Rating: T (warnings: angsty boys, violence, HP/DM slash or male/male romance)

Summary: As punishment for his father's mistakes, Draco is bitten by Fenrir Greyback. Narcissa asks Severus to take him somewhere safe and he can only think of one place... where Harry Potter will be spending most of his summer.

Notes: This story is most likely not the first of its kind (for the idea of Draco being a werewolf is a very awesome one) but I'm enjoying writing it and hope that it has its own little originalities in plot and the style of writing. Also, it is not compliant to the canon plot Half Blood Prince onwards.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places and ideas belong to the fabulous J.K. Rowling though, if I could, I would beg the ownership of Ron off of her.

Prologue

_There are so many things wrong with this situation_, Draco reflected with a smothering, morose acceptance to something he could not stop, _so many things that should be different_. He should have been standing in one of the upper rooms of the Manor in triumph, baring his arm for his skulled seal of pure-blood glory, not blindfolded with knees forced onto the cold floor of a dusty dungeon cell. He should have been receiving the honorary treatment that his father had always so proudly spoke of, light shining in his pale eyes, eyes that were now forever dulled in the dark confines of Azkaban.

His comrades should have been watching him walk towards their Lord, admiration towards the youngest ever Death Eater clear - even behind their masks. Instead they were far away from him, most likely laughing and mocking his untimely downfall. Except for his mother, who should have been smiling, not sobbing in her private quarters.

A dirty finger caressing his jaw cut off his trail of fevered thoughts. A gruesome hiss of approving breath, thick with desire, closely followed it and settled on his face, making him grimace in practiced distaste. Soon his features slackened back to blank; his reactions no longer mattered, he reminded himself.

"Perhaps I should have been made a vampire, the bloodlust feels so strong." The words fell past his ears and dropped to the filthy ground, where they belonged. The finger, ending in a nail that Draco knew to be yellow and gnarled, traced a line along his jugular, feeling the rapid pulse that raced under his cold skin. "It's been too long since I've had a bite - my Lord has been trusting me to keep a low profile. Your infection is the prize for that loyalty."

Draco could not help the ugly flower of jealousy that bloomed in his gut; the disgusting wolf could be a servant of the Lord, yet he, a beautiful pureblood, had been deemed unsuitable for the privilege. He was being denied his purity, his status, his life, yet this filthy beast was permitted to call him Lord. The bitterness rankled.

"Yet I'll make this bite slow, to remember the feel of your skin in my teeth... so delicate..." Greyback's voice lowered in what sounded like lust and he pressed his lips onto Draco's collarbone. _So the wolf lusts for things other than blood_, Draco confirmed in grim anticipation, yet nothing followed this sporadic gesture that almost seemed tender. Clearly the bite was the most important thing, which Draco was thankful for in a way. He could only suffer so much humiliation, he did not need more.

The bite was slow, the lips against Draco's vulnerable skin opening and fangs dragging across him with a dagger's sharp precision. They sank down like knives into a piece of meat, Draco barely suppressing the scream of pain that ripped through him. He would keep some dignity, even if only in the presence of a disgusting werewolf, for he was a Malfoy. Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy-

Then the poison, which would ruin his name and inheritance, suddenly hit and he did scream this time, his mind having turned feral with the sheer torture of its searing, toxic magic streaming through his system. This was his punishment, for his father's mistakes, and he would have to take it. Yet he could only take it like the afraid, fifteen year old boy that he was, screams and cries ripping through his throat in their unstoppable wretchedness.

Just when he thought his head would snap clean off his neck, the fangs were removed and the cold air readily attacked the gaping wound that was left in the wolf's wake. Draco fell to the floor, his chest wracking with sobs that would not come to their full fruition because it was simply too much effort. He would have been happy to die there and then, no longer having to feel the pain and humiliation, but the vengeful Dark Lord would not have been happy with that. Death would have been the easy way out.

As instructed, the two minor Death Eaters who had been waiting at the doorway, surveying the whole process with gruesome interest, charged in and immediately began healing him slowly with their limited knowledge of preventing werewolf made wounds from killing the victim. Fenrir watched over them with a bloody, leering grin, as if his mouth was a freshly slit blade wound, as large, curved and ugly as the one spreading across Draco's collarbone and shoulder, and something not altogether human.

"That was delectable," he spoke, his voice low and hoarse, "but it only leaves me wanting another bite..." He forced himself to look away from his two comrades, as inexperienced and vulnerable looking as they were. They were on his side, no matter how much the wolf in him, that controlled most of him, wanted to maim and murder them. His master would not be happy if he killed them and he lived to please his master's commands first, his lust for blood second.

He left, the sight and smell of the boy's freshly spilt blood and his groans of anguish making him feel dizzy with need, to report back to his master, who would be pleased that he had completed the task. Draco Malfoy, purest of the purebloods, was now a dirty-blooded werewolf like Greyback himself. _There's no going back for him_, Fenrir thought to himself with a malicious satisfaction, _he may as well be dead, though the master wouldn't let me finish him off. All that blood left to spill, such a pity..._

Back in the dungeon cell the two Death Eaters had finished healing him with their rudimentary skills, only having done enough to save his life but not lessen any of the sharp pain that was still coursing through him. The air was thick with his humiliation and stank with his shame and that must have been what made the two cloaked figures leave, disgusted by the pitiful sight of a powerful Malfoy curled up on the floor, cradling himself in his arms and now openly wailing, the sound having found its way out of the mouth that had stayed firmly shut for so many years.

So many, many things felt wrong with what had happened to him yet the sense of injustice was not powerful enough to rear up and fill his heart, for it concentrated solely on beating the blood around him and struggling to keep him alive, ignoring the deadness that pervaded his mind as his body so rudely tried to carry on without his permission.

He did not want to carry on, not now. Not ever, as long as the dirty blood of the wolf journeyed through him and ruined him.


	2. Planning

_Planning_

Narcissa Malfoy was not, as her son had assumed, sitting and weeping in her bedroom. This was one of many times her family had underestimated her and, as long as Lucius ruled over them, surely not the last.

She walked calmly and with silent grace along the street that complimented her beauty in no way; dank and dilapidated, the houses rose like images conjured out of dirty smoke and the pavement was glistening odiously with rainwater and its own quality of malice. The place alone was enough to make her feel on edge, hand gripping her wand like the lifeline it was and mind fighting the urge to pull up her robes so they did not brush against the dirt and despair.

She walked with poise and determination that suggested she knew exactly where she was going, and know her destination she did. The particular house, in matching uniform to its miserable brethren yet unmistakeable to her sharp memory, loomed ahead and grew as she stepped closer, her breath hitching as she remembered the enormity of what she was doing.

She stopped walking when she came to the door, knowing that she need not reach out a clean hand and knock against the filthy wood. He would have been alerted to her presence by many alarms made in fits of paranoid magic, but she was not afraid of him - despite her racing heart.

He opened the door, a gaunt face stark against the dark of his robes, his oily black hair and the dimly lit, emaciated hallway. Not even a slight surprise alighted his fathomless eyes; it was as if she had been expected here and she accepted this grim realisation in respect of the more desperately loud thoughts that occupied her mind. He had known for a while what would become of her son for her husband's failures.

"Narcissa, it's a pleasure." Severus spoke the ambiguous phrase politely, not even coaxing a tight smile from his harrowed companion, and moved aside wordlessly so that she could be swallowed into the darkness that had been his entire world for the past few days, ever since he had found out the fate of her son.

"The pleasure is all yours." She whispered bitterly, the first words she had spoken in the past few hours. She knew it not to be true by the new engraved lines in Severus' deep-set features and the stiffness in his actions that denoted overwhelming guilt and grief, but her anger, of which she had never felt so strongly, had to go somewhere where she would not be killed for it.

"I apologize for what has happened," Severus murmured hurriedly, frantic to let all the words out, "I did what I could, but the Lord was in a dark mood indeed. I managed to persuade him to spare Draco's life, but only by indicating that he would suffer more this way. I want Draco to make his own decision about... what to do next."

"About killing himself, is that what you mean?" Narcissa's anger gave into pure despair - she had heard that it was often custom for newly changed werewolves to kill themselves so as not to live the lowly life full of hardship and sadness that would haunt them otherwise. She did not want this to happen to her son, out of a selfish mother's love. She would not know what to do without him there to motivate her to carry on. He was her son.

Severus shifted slightly, but otherwise gave no sign of how her words had affected him. "I want that to happen just as much as you do, I assure you, but it is Draco's choice. How will he live after this?"

"A horrible life." The words were immediate and took no thought. She would not lie to herself - Draco would not even stay a Malfoy after this, even if it was Lucius' own fault that their son had met such a foul fortune. He would not risk the bad publicity and stigma that would inevitably attach itself to Draco's name like a parasite as soon as this new, incriminating information was leaked out. Draco would only be their son by blood, blood already tainted and forever altered. Yet Narcissa would always love him, she knew that much.

"Severus..." she drew a rattling breath, "Severus, please, just find him a place of safety. That is all I ask of you now." It was all she could ask - Draco no longer had a place in the world. Surely, she thought, letting the hope try and tear through the heavy veil of anguish that weighed down on her chest; surely Severus would know what to do.

He did, though he did not like the idea and the people who would be affected by one simple action. "I can only think of one place where he will be truly safe."

"Oh thank you!" Narcissa had really let her guard down now, placing both hands on Severus' crossed arms and gripping so hard that her nails nearly dug through his thick robes into his mark-sullied forearm. "Thank you!"

"It won't be easy though," Severus warned, most likely needlessly given the situation they were already in, "you will not be able to see your son for quite a long time, perhaps years."

For just a moment Narcissa hesitated. Her mind conjured memories of the small boy who hardly ever left her side, accompanying her around the manor, learning his lessons in etiquette, playing with the wooden toys that had been passed down through the family for generations. All these quaint thoughts were unceremoniously killed by the thought of Draco as a wolf, tearing through the streets, maiming, killing, murdering. He was no longer an innocent boy that she could shelter from the world.

"That's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for his safety." She looked Severus in the eye, her usually emotionless face filled with a determination that he had never seen in her before.

Severus, feeling uncharacteristic himself, gave a small smile, an almost imperceptible turn of the lips, one of respect for a mother who clearly loved her son.

"I will come to the manor tomorrow, detain the two minor servants guarding him and take him away. You must be nowhere near us at the time, or you will be suspected."

Narcissa's expression grew back to one of dignified composure, making the brief moments of emotion he had seen even more precious and permanently etched into his memory. She simply nodded and then turned on her heel, a shard of silver light walking away from him and leaving the darkness of his own abode to once again permeate him. She briefly turned at the door. "I trust you to look after him."

Then she was gone.

Severus exhaled, the breath slow and measured, and sat down at his desk. There was planning to be done, then a vain attempt of procuring a few hours sleep even with the appropriate draught. During times like this, when he let himself feel the fear and sadness that had long ago built up in him, he thought of Lily.

Now he thought of Draco, another person important to him, his godson, who may well also die at the hands of the despicable man that he had to call Lord in a risky game of spying and treachery. This time he would not let that happen.

He would not lose someone he loved again.


	3. Moving

_Moving_

There was somebody there. A voice he recognized, a smell that was pungently close to his werewolf's sensitive nostrils, though he knew it now to be further away than he thought. It overpowered the two unsavoury smells of his gormless guards, who he could have beaten if he had his wand, just as the person's magic overpowered them. He heard them slump to the floor in unconscious defeat and footsteps sound as his rescuer grew closer to his shrivelled form.

His godfather was here and apparently saving him. He briefly wondered what Severus would do, where he was being taken, but then he let his tired, fevered thoughts relax and ebb away. The man always knew what to do and he would give himself over to the trust he felt for him completely.

"Draco," the words were solemn, emotion unreadable, and he prised open his eyes, "I've come here to take you away."

With extreme effort he sat up against the uneven wall he had been slumped against, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light let through the heavy door that generally remained shut, seeing his godfather's minutely worried expression that worked against the usual impassiveness of his face.

He made no sound or movement of consent or refusal, which the man took for passive agreement. He lifted Draco, whose shoulder wound flared up in protest though he strove to ignore it, and supported the boy as best he could, putting a very light lifting charm on his body so his feet hovered centimetres above the ground. This released Draco of the weight that had kept him down for the past day or so. He began to walk out of the cell, Draco's eyes getting steadily more assaulted by the grand light of the Manor halls, feeling for the first time in his life that he did not belong there.

He swore that he could see the pale blue eye of his mother, partially obscured by a door only open by a crack, and his shame reared up and threatened to knock him over. He did not want his mother to see him in such a state, dirty and feral and not himself. He would never be himself again, he realized with an eruption of melancholy.

Progress out of the Manor's walls grew swift as did Severus' agitation and fear. If he was caught escorting Draco in escape his life would be over, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Everything had been sorted out, quickly planned - all involved had agreed and he was doing what he was supposed to. It was on Dumbledore's orders he truly acted.

As soon as his foot hit ground that was not owned by the Malfoy family, Severus swiftly apparated away, holding his godson close to his side.

***

They arrived in a road Draco did not recognize and a spark of relief shot through him. Here nobody would know him, recognize him for the pristine boy of his past and the contrasting wastrel that he was now. This feeling was enough to propel him as they carried on walking, the lifting charm still helping, to two houses marked '11' and '13'. Draco frowned, hearing loud Muggle music from one house and seeing the strange box filled with pictures, which he knew Muggles loved, behind the curtains in the other.

"I don't understand - this is a Muggle street. How will I be safe here?"

Severus, too busy finding something in his robe pocket to answer, produced a crumpled looking piece of torn off parchment. Draco didn't comprehend how this would help things. Wordlessly, the parchment was held in front of his eyes. "Memorize it," was the quiet instruction.

And Draco did. _12 Grimmauld Place_, it certainly rang a bell, but he could not place why...

He was distracted from trying to remember as he watched a whole new house grow in between the ones that had already been there. This had a distinct different feel to its Muggle siblings: whereas they were plain and unmistakeably non-magical, number 12 had an ancient, heavy magic surrounding it that made Draco's own magic tingle in anticipation, and it looked far more dark and foreboding, which in a way Draco liked. Now this was a house that meant business. Whoever lived here would have the power to protect him.

"Follow me." Severus said and Draco could not protest due to the charm that was started to infuriate him slightly. He wanted to walk into such an impressive looking house, not be carried like a weakling. He may be a werewolf, but surely he could hold some vestiges of dignity, a few that he supposed even Mudbloods were entitled to.

He had no longer to ponder this as the imposing front door was opened magically and Draco entered the house that grew more foreboding with each step. The entrance hall was obviously magical, given the moving paintings, most ruined with dank and grime, and the troll's leg that served as an umbrella stand, grotesque yet a favourite with old pure blood families for their rarity and expense. He doubted that a Weasley had ever set sights on one.

He mentally crossed himself when a red-headed witch who must have been a Weasley, complete with a plethora of freckles, bustled down the hall, an unpleasant contrast in colour with her bright clothes to the dark green, murky wallpaper.

"Severus," she said with only a hint of welcome, her eyes planted on Draco who wanted to squirm in anger and distaste, "I'm glad you're here."

"Molly," his godfather addressed her quickly and then turned his attention to the stairway, Draco correctly guessing that his destination was upstairs. He hoped it would be a spacious bedroom where he would be safely away from any other Weasleys that could happen to be in the house. What the hell was Severus doing around Weasleys anyway? He planned to ask as soon as they were out of earshot.

He got no such chance. As soon as he had been lifted up the stairs, then gently released from the lifting charm to stand on his own, only slightly uncertain, feet, he was greeted by another face that he recognized unpleasantly. Lupin, the disgusting werewolf who had tried to teach him during second year until he had been ousted as the grotesque creature he was.

_You're one too now_, a little, often truthful, voice reminded him. He smothered it quickly and forgot about it. He would never be on the same level of pathetic lowliness that this man was.

"Severus, I trust that Draco is okay?" The soft-spoken man asked in his wheedling voice and Draco could have shook in rage and grimaced in revulsion. The man had the audacity to call him by his first name! The rudeness to talk about him when he stood there! The nerve to even be there in the first place!

"Yes, I will need you to check the wound though, I trust you are more of an expert than I am in this area." Draco could not help but appreciate the bite to Severus' tone; so he also had the good taste to distrust and hate the werewolf. Though he would not let the thing even touch him, let alone look at the wound that would only cause him blood lust. Just like Fenrir... Draco tried to dispel the fear that rose up to his throat. Fenrir was far away now.

He was ushered by the two men into a room he presumed to be his, due to its cleanliness and emptiness (how he suddenly missed all of his clothes and possessions at the Manor at this point) and then directed to sit on the double bed that took up most of the floor space.

"Show him." His godfather and Draco did so, but unwillingly and only because of the steely look in Severus' eyes that Draco only knew too well to be one of warning. He only undid a few buttons of the shirt that clung to him and exposed the still raw wound.

"A surprisingly clean wound, given the perpetrator." Lupin's tone changed surprisingly from one of mild interest to one tinged with a subtle bitterness. "I suppose Greyback is more practised these days."

Severus gave a non-committal hum that might have been of agreement. Draco said nothing, simply looking away from Lupin's face hovering above his, eyes intent on the ugly wound that would surely mark him forever. He longed for the inspection to be over and to be left alone from all the people he hated.

"It still hasn't completely healed up though - I have an ointment for that, I'll just go get it." Without further comment the wolf stalked out of the door, his malevolence hidden by his neutral clothes and appearance.

Draco's eyes immediately shot to the other occupant of the room accusingly.

"Where are we and what the hell are all these people doing here?" He demanded, some strength having come back to him. He crossed his arms, half out of impatience and half to hide the vulnerability of his bare skin, and waited. Severus sighed.

"You are in the house the Order of the Phoenix currently uses as head quarters," he replied resignedly and Draco nodded, he had heard of the so-called Order, "which is information that you will not be able to tell anyone who does not already know about it."

_Of course_, Draco's thoughts on the topic halting at that very moment, _they would have a secret keeper._ _Severus knows me too well. Not that my father will ever look at me again, let alone listen to information I have about the other side. I have effectively defected to the light as it is._

"It also happens to be the house in which your mother grew up." Severus added and Draco's mind pulsed again in realization. It was the house of Black, which he had never visited for reasons he now understood. It had been his mother's, his beautiful mother's, childhood home. How his heart burned to see her again, though he also knew that this was impossible. For her protection and his.

Thinking him effectively silenced, Severus continued. "You will stay here for the remainder of the summer, under Dumbledore's and the Order's utmost protection, until school starts again and he can watch over you there."

It seemed that he had been mistaken. "Severus... what if I want none of this?" Draco asked, his voice dropping low, and Severus understood exactly what he meant.

"Do you really want to die now?" Severus asked, dropping pretences and staring the boy straight in the eye.

Draco searched himself for an answer. His shame, created by his old pure blood self, wanted very much for him to die so it would not have to exist any longer. Yet, the rest of him, his instinct for self-preservation, his stubbornness, his fear, the presence of the wolf that he could sense moving within him even now, all wanted him to carry on.

"That's not what I want." He admitted, lowering his eyes as his shame protested angrily. He also tried to smother its voice, chanting _take it back, take it back_, but it was a lot harder than smothering the truth like he had learnt to do as a child.

"So you are happy with the other plan? It's the only other option."

"Yes, I'm happy with that." Draco replied in a voice that sounded anything but happy.

"I'm sure that by now the two Death Eaters who I knocked out whilst disguised have awoken and reported to the Dark Lord with your disappearance, so for now I'm afraid I cannot fetch any of your belongings. There are a few things Molly bought with my money in the wardrobe - I hope they are to your taste." Severus smirked here and Draco shrugged. He knew he was picky and didn't try to hide it. "I must leave now, there is much discussion to be had. Molly should check on you within an hour, clean yourself up."

Severus then tore himself away, turned around and began to open the door. He hesitated briefly on hearing a small utterance.

"Thank you."

He said nothing, just walked out of the door. He had never been good at receiving praise, especially that of such a heartfelt quality. He had also never heard Draco thank somebody during all the time he had known him - perhaps the former Malfoy was changing in more ways than one because of the wolf inside of him.

Draco slumped down onto the bed as soon as the door shut and now truly let the sobs that had spent time festering in his belly come into fruition, curling up and hiding his head in his hands. He only let it carry on for a minute or two, letting out some of the frustration and distress that threatened to overwhelm him otherwise, and then fiercely wiped his eyes, reminding himself that crying was for the weak.

He opened the wardrobe, not taking much time to look at what he was putting on as he hurriedly dressed himself, after casting a simple cleaning charm that grated against his skin momentarily and then left himself feeling fresher than he had in a while. The warmth of the clothing, which through slightly blurred vision he registered to be plain black robes complete with loose trousers and a shirt underneath that he could find little fault with, and the cleanliness even improved his mood somewhat. He even remembered to cast the spell on his face that his mother had taught him to remove the traces of unsightly tear stains.

A few minutes later the Weasley woman knocked on the door and entered before Draco could even call out that she could enter. She smiled, a mixture of relief that he hated and pity that he hated more, and set some towels on the end of his bed, walking dangerously close to his personal space. Not for the first time did Draco pine for his wand, still in the Manor, under his pillow where he habitually kept it at night.

"There you go, dear, towels. You have a little bathroom next to your room, you know." She waved one freckled hand vaguely to a small, especially dark corner of the room. Draco had not known - now he craved a proper shower and one of the Manor's warm, thick bathrobes to put on afterwards. He expected nothing of Manor quality to be found in this werewolf and blood traitor infested place. "I'm Molly, by the way." She added and Draco promptly forgot her name.

"Now, how about some food?" Finally she had said something constructive, Draco shouted the thought in his head but said nothing, only nodding. The idiotic woman must have taken it for shyness. "Alright then, let's go down to lunch. You won't go hungry as long as I'm around - how Ron is still beanpole thin I have no idea..."

Oh god, the woman was really the Weasel's mother? The Weasel was here? Draco knew what that meant - when one was around the other two were never that far away. A feeling of dread tightened around his heart - did they know of his situation? He could imagine them laughing, mocking him, making fun of him. The whole image rankled and stung. He could not face them, not now. Perhaps in a few days if he had to, but not now.

The woman could sense his sudden reluctance and seemed to guess why. She gave him another of those infuriating smiles that made him want to slap her.

"If you want, dear, I can bring you something up instead, though I don't know what you like..." She was encouraged by another nod, more vigorous than the last, "okay then, I'll be back in a bit!" Her much too cheery voice and frumpy figure finally left and Draco exhaled loudly.

This just kept on getting worse and worse.

* * *

**A/N: So, here are the preliminary chapters, and I would love it if you could take the time to leave a review saying whether I should continue or not! - purplerawr**


	4. Meeting

_Meeting_

The Weasley Woman, as Draco liked to call her, had brought him a surprisingly edible lunch. The bread was golden and doughy, not the sawdust he had expected, and the bowl of plain tomato soup was thick and passable in taste. The pumpkin juice tasted just like the stuff that Hogwarts served at most meals and reminded him with a wistful feeling of the school he would be waiting weeks to see again. It was his second favourite place, right beside the Manor. He had a feeling it would soon become his favourite place, in fact the only place he truly liked.

Wiping the dark blue rimmed bowl with the last of the bread and, not caring about how he looked in a minuscule fit of rebellion, swiping away a stray drop of soup on his hand with his tongue, he set the tray on the modest bedside table and sat back, for the first time in a day or two feeling basically content, no longer cold, dirty and hungry.

He even entertained the idea of going down to see the not so aptly named Golden Trio, that was just how much better he felt. He hoped that they didn't even know he was there - the shock on their faces would be priceless and improve his mood even further. Plus he was starting to get bored of his little room with its half closed blinds, making the light splay across the opposite wall in pale stripes, its dusty wardrobe and iron-wrought bed which just didn't compare to the soft, squishy king-size that he was used to at... home. He pushed connected thoughts away and decided that he had to get out of there.

The thought surprising even to himself, he needed company to distract himself from his own thoughts. For a person who enjoyed picking apart every thought he had, deeming it normal or disposable, this was a rare desire. Perhaps it was the excruciating time he had spent alone in the cell and the limited, strained contact he had received since then. Whatever it was, he cast away the reason to the back of his brain as he opened the door, looked both ways down the landing until he relocated the stairway, and walked down slowly, taking in and mapping out his surroundings as he went.

Nobody would be catching him by surprise; that was his role as secret resident of the house. He hoped with a thrill of amusement that Potter would be his first victim - he could imagine gleefully the look of shock and anger that would alight his stupid face.

He was back in the hallway now and avoided tripping over the troll's leg, which he was sure had moved since a few hours earlier. Perhaps somebody had already tripped over it and put it back in the wrong place. On a strange compulsion, he moved it until it was in what he thought to be its original place. Nothing was going to deter him from his activities, not even a rogue troll's leg.

He counted the many doorways that led down the hall, attracted to the end of it by a warm light emanating from the door frame furthest away from him and the sound of voices and the alluring smell of the soup, which he would not mind having more of.

Summoning all the Malfoy courage he possessed, he was about to waltz through the door when the conversation, which up until that point had sounded cheery enough, had suddenly turned sour.

"What the bloody hell?" The Weasel's colloquial tones were unmistakeable, "What is _Malfoy_ doing here?

"That's not for you to know, Ronald! It's confidential information that Draco can tell you if he wants to." He recognized the Weasley Woman, her voice now a torrent of strong indignation that seemed to shut her son up temporarily. Reluctantly, Draco admitted that he was starting to like the woman and should try and remember her name. _Mildred? Mandy...?_

A few seconds passed in silence, but then the Weasel was speaking again, now in a pathetic murmur. "Only thing he ever tells me is how poor and incompetent I am."

_Huh, so the Weasel knows what the word incompetent means. Today is full of surprises. _

Another voice spoke, perhaps to cover up the awkward silence that had sprung up between the Weasel and his mother. "I'm sure that Dumbledore has good reasons to let Draco Malfoy stay here - and the secret of Grimmauld Place is still safe as long as Dumbledore is secret keeper." Draco could not quite place the owner of that voice, though its familiarity was irritating, but he thought that they at least made some sense.

Then Potter spoke up. "So where is he?" His voice sounded a lot more dull and serious than Draco remembered it. He wondered, with a smile of satisfaction, if Potter had been deeply scarred by something and had now reverted to being depressed. Nothing would please him more.

He also thought that now would be a brilliant time to enter the room and heighten the already awkward atmosphere so, on impulse, he did so, ignoring the faces of the other people there to take a seat at the head of the large table that stretched across the room, littered with empty bowls, bread crumbs and a big vat of soup in the middle with clean bowls standing by its side.

"Draco dear," Mildred-Mandy said to him, her tone far too cheerful to be real, "Have you come for some more soup?"

Draco risked looking up, painting a picture of pure innocence on his face, and even gave a slight smile. "If it's no trouble." He used his most charming voice and could almost see the woman's heart melting. She immediately sprang into life and filled a bowl with soup, at the same time conjuring more bread from the kitchen onto a small side plate. Draco noted the effect so he could put it to further use in the future. That voice had always worked on his own mother, so it was bound to work on someone as weak-hearted as a Weasley.

The three other people in the room weren't buying it so much. The Weasel looked satisfyingly livid, his freckles being swallowed by an angry shade of red on his face. Granger, who Draco identified with some distaste (for her being a Mudblood and also his thinking that she had made some sense, for Mudbloods made no sense to him) looked disapproving but not annoyed enough in his opinion.

Potter looked... completely and utterly dead inside. Which was ridiculous - surely the boy-who-lived already had all the ludicrous fame that he wanted, why would he be so moody? _The git, he's probably just sulking for no good reason_, Draco thought angrily, wishing that the green-eyed idiot had shown a bit more of a reaction to his presence. A Weasel-like one would have sufficed nicely.

He then grew distracted by the steaming soup that sat in front of him and picked up his spoon, taking a dainty first sip with absolutely no slurp. He would not slurp in front of people, only in the confines of his room.

"Mum," He heard the fuming ginger whisper loudly, but the Weasley matriarch was obviously ignoring him.

"So," she began, "I think today we should tackle the upstairs drawing room seeming as it would be a great place for meetings, but unfortunately its absolutely infested with doxies! And they lay this time of year, so there will be simply hundreds of them..." she bustled away, beginning to levitate the dirty dishes into the kitchen for washing. Leaving Draco with the Golden Trio. Weasel didn't even wait a heartbeat.

"Malfoy, what the hell are you doing here?" He demanded and Draco, not wishing to alleviate his anger in any way, waited a few seconds before looking up at him and acknowledging his existence with an imperiously raised eyebrow.

"Do you have a problem with my being here, Weasley?" He asked in the same voice he had used to procure more soup.

"Cut the crap, ferrety git, you shouldn't be here!" Ron stood up and marched over to beside where Draco was sitting, towering over him in all his red-haired, unkempt glory. Draco did not let himself be perturbed by the intimidation, carrying on lifting his spoon to his mouth, blowing on the soup lightly, and then pausing.

"Deal with it." He consumed the soup and kept on looking ahead. He didn't need to look to see how fuming the Weasel would be.

"That's it!" Draco's hearing, in overload due to the underlying fear that he was ignoring yet the wolf, as he reluctantly referred to it, could not by instinct, picked up the sound of a fist being drawn back and poised for his face, the determined shift of fraying fabric. Yet no hit met his tense body as Weasley was held back..

"Stop it!" Granger was holding him with a seemingly supernatural strength, reminding Draco painfully of when she had punched him in their third year at school. "Ron, you can't attack him like that! Grow up!"

Ron, evidently torn between shouting at either Draco or the Mudblood, looked from side to side, his mouth screwed up in frustration. Draco thought he looked like a beetroot, but refrained from voicing his opinion in favour of watching what was going on around him.

Granger was frowning, still with an arm around each of the Weasel's. Weasley was crossing his arms in what seemed to be defeat. Potter was staring straight ahead to the opposite wall, looking like he was about to slip into a coma. Draco was pleased with his successes so far - the trio were clearly thrown by him, just how he liked them.

Mrs. Weasley walked back into the room, glancing at the scene before her and ignoring what it meant.

"Right, I've got the doxycide! Let's get to work!" She was looking at all of them, Draco included. He panicked - surely there must have been some sort of mistake? He had never had to do housework before, and he heard that doxy bites stung... it was the work of Mudbloods, blood traitors and all-round fools like Potter and his fan base!

He said nothing, though; he would not show weakness in front of the enemy. He would just watch the rest of them do the work.

"But Mum..." The Weasel was brutally cut off again.

"Fetch Ginny and the twins would you? We need all the help we can get..." She walked out of the room, Granger following her, and Weasley stormed out a few moments later. Draco, scraping up dregs of soup, glanced to the seat still occupied by Harry. He had been gone for a while, so to speak, and Draco had the urge to throw his spoon at the idiot to get some sort of reaction out of him.

Something in his eyes though... Draco had a brief moment of sympathy, which disturbed him much more than any spoon throwing fantasies could. He looked as Draco had felt whilst locked up in the cell; trapped, with no hope of ever being free. Well, Draco was free of the cell now, even if he was still trapped in this strange house, so why was Harry still locked up in his own head?

Draco knew that, even if he asked, the boy would never tell him. That was a privilege he had lost after years of antagonism and insults, as Harry had lost his trust the second time they had ever met. Some things just worked out that way, he concluded silently.

Draco stood and walked past the other boy, not looking back as he tried to work out where the upstairs drawing room could possibly be located.

Harry's head snapped back, awakening him, and he watched as the boy walked away, slow and unsure. What was Malfoy doing here anyway?

Harry knew that, even if he asked, the boy would never tell him.

**A/N: Thank you very much to zeratera (nice to hear from you again!) RealitySwitcher (bolshy, but I still like you :P) kittenonabroomstick, JMCaptein, Carla, missyny1 and foreverjynxed (hooray! You're awesome!) for your reviews! You had me inspired for writing a chapter four ^^ I was a little unsure whether to carry on writing this story (I'm not usually into the whole werewolf/vampire/veela thing) but I've decided to now :)**


	5. Cleaning

_Cleaning_

Mrs. Weasley lined up her helpers as if they were soldiers, receiving a grand speech before going into battle against the doxy enemy.

"Right, remember to try and spray them directly in the face if you can, and remember to spray their wings so they're less likely to fly away from you. If you get bitten, come to me immediately. Remember to keep watching for new ones - otherwise they'll get you!"

Harry almost expected her to shout "Constant Vigilance!" and transfigure into Moody, but to his relief no such thing happened. He was passed a can of doxycide, with a picture of one of the little menaces on the front, bobbing up and down with the movement of its wings and grinning mischievously. Somehow he guessed he would be receiving a few bites during the clean out, a view helped by the copious amount of doxy-bite antidote that was lying dormant on a sinister looking old armchair. He couldn't really care less.

At first progress was slow, seeming as the little black fairies were not heartened to leave the big, dark green curtains that had become their home. Then the first onslaught emerged from the dreary drapes - they came in ones and two, tens, suddenly hundreds were flying around and mayhem ensued.

Ron managed to get a bite on his first attempt, shouting an expletive in his pained surprise, and receiving a fierce reprimand and a daub of antidote from his mother. The twins, already experts at getting rid of the gnomes in the Weasley house's garden, excelled at the job and were soon, between them, getting up to five doxies at a time (or so they said.)

Hermione was nervous, yet fought with a vigour that Harry watched fondly - she always threw herself into work, whether reluctant or not. Ginny was just as successful - always having lived up to her fiery red hair with her nature, she attacked the pests in a way that Harry almost found scary, though he knew what a lovely person she was really, if not still a bit shy around him.

Draco, however, was a complete different matter. Watching him back away from a tiny little doxy, eyes wide and doxycide held at an arm's length away, Harry almost felt like laughing at the scene. Then the guilt of feeling such enjoyment when Sirius was gone quashed it and he turned away, spraying the nearest doxy with far too much doxycide.

"Careful, Harry, doxycide is expensive!" Mrs. Weasley gently admonished him and he gave a guilty shrug paired with a sheepish smile. He didn't feel guilty at all. He just felt... nothing.

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

She gave him one of her fond smiles, full of empathy and love, but he could only see the warmth of it, not feel it in himself. He could not feel anything now that Sirius was dead. He moved away from the Weasley family, from their compassion and acceptance, onto much more bitter ground, Malfoy ground; for hatred was something that he would always understand, miserable or not.

"Yeah, Potter, watch out," The blonde boy piped up, clearly trying to cover his fear with arrogance, "that's all the Weasel family can afford."

Unfortunately for him, Ron also happened to be near them at the time.

"THAT'S IT, MALFOY! YOU'RE ASKING FOR IT!" Harry turned a little while after Draco sharply whirled around, unnaturally fast, and looked at Ron, fuming and fumbling for his wand. "STOP INSULTING MY FAMILY!"

"Ronald!" Chanted many voices, mostly Mrs. Weasley and Hermione, but Ron could not hear anything past the own pulse in his head. He started to say a spell, but his mother did at the same time (Harry had no idea why Malfoy wasn't protecting himself) and both spells collided, resulting in Ron's can of doxycide blowing up... straight into Malfoy's face.

Harry could have also laughed then, yet he still did not. Ron whooped in triumph, acting as if he had meant to do that, the twins laughed riotously, Ginny joining in, and Mrs. Weasley looked incensed with anger. All that Harry had expected to see.

Time seemed to slow down, then, as Hermione did the unexpected; she walked over to where Draco was, doubled over with his hands pressed into his face, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Do you want me to help?" She asked and Draco carefully straightened up and moved his fingers from his eyes so he could see her face. The disdain could not be hidden where his features could as he spoke.

"I would never accept the help of a Mudblood." With this he walked quickly out of the room. The laughter died down. Ron started to get angry again. Time sped back up and a flurry of voices hit Harry like a fast train.

"What did the ferret bloody well say?"

"Ronald, language! I - the boy was in pain... but to call Hermione that..."

"What a tosser! I'll bat bogey hex him for you, 'Mione!"

"Yeah and we'll test one of our latest products on him... he won't like that at all, will he?"

"What the bloody hell did he just go and say to you? I'm going to kill him-"

"Quiet!" Mrs. Weasley seemed to have gained composure, making her, Harry and a surprisingly calm Hermione the only sane people in the room, and the cacophonous war cries trailed off brusquely. "All of you" she looked to her children, "go to your rooms. Now!"

A flurry of redheads disappeared through the door, knowing that she meant business. Even the remaining doxies flew back hurriedly to their curtain abode, sensing the electricity of authority in the air that buzzed at their wings.

"You two - would you please finish off the few doxies left? I would help, but I'm going to see if the poor boy is alright..." the remaining head of bright hair exited the room, muttering worriedly to herself. Hermione and Harry exchanged a glance and Harry could see the wet shine in his companions' eyes.

"You know, it really doesn't bother me." She said, turning away, but he could hear a quiver in her voice that he knew people who didn't know her well wouldn't pick up. He walked over, unsure about what he was supposed to do, and opted to put an awkward hand on her shoulder. She responded by hugging him, as if she had been waiting for an opportunity.

"Oh Harry, why are you comforting me? I should be comforting you..." she spoke, not crying just for what Malfoy had said to her, Harry knew that much at least. Conversation was crossing dangerous ground.

"It's fine, Hermione, really." He said, breaking the contact though the mere hug had felt so nice when recently he had been keeping everybody at a distance.

"Harry," she smiled up at him, her eyes still watery, "if you ever want to talk about it I'm here, though I don't want to push you into anything."

Internally, he sighed with relief. Externally, he permitted himself to smile back. He then noted that there were still doxies to spray.

"Thanks, Hermione." With that, and remembering the can still in his hand, he began spraying a curtain to send the doxies flying away again. Hermione was at the ready by his side with her can to catch them mid-flight, like the true friend she always had been.

***

Later on, he, Hermione and Ron were in the room the two boys were staying in for the duration of the summer. Ron and Harry sat on their respective beds and Hermione chose a seat at the end of Harry's, in prime position to glare disapprovingly at Ron, who was looking more and more uncomfortable as topics of small talk gradually ran out. They all knew that Hermione had something to say, but neither boy wanted to start her talking and she wanted one of them to ask.

Eventually Harry decided to resolve the stalemate; otherwise it could have gone on for days. "Is there something on your mind, 'Mione?"

"Yes," she replied, in a clipped tone, "I was just thinking about how Ron threatened Malfoy earlier and then proceeded to spray him with doxycide. Would you like to explain that, Ron?"

Ron jumped on the meagre chance. "I didn't mean to spray him - it was the combination of me and mum's spells!" He lifted his chin, triumphant. Harry refrained from the passing comment that it was a rather Malfoy pose.

"And what were you going to do otherwise? Get him with a tickling charm?" Hermione's voice was toxic with sarcasm and Ron grimaced.

"Okay, you have a point there, but did you hear what the git said? What about what he said to you? Aren't you even the least bit annoyed that he called you a- a-" he closed his mouth and frowned, not even wanting to repeat the insult in an innocent context. Harry thought it rather decent, yet Hermione was not as impressed.

"I know I'm being calmer about this than you'd expect and yes, he is a massive git. Yet something awful must have happened to him if he had to move to here of all places. Obviously he's under Order protection - what if something truly terrible happened to him?" She _whewed_ out a sigh of relief, having said what had been most prominently on her mind.

"I think he's here just to make us suffer, right?" Ron looked to Harry for reassurance, who couldn't bring himself to even smile. This didn't deter him. "That's what he exists for."

"Ronald, stop being so insensitive! Surely you can find enough compassion to-"

"No, not for Malfoy I can't."

"Fine, be a pig! Be just as bad as he was to me!" Hermione propelled herself off the bed and stormed out of the room. Ron shrugged and sighed, his expression reading _girls - what can you do?_

"Can you believe her sometimes?" He voiced his thoughts, "compassion for the ferret - as if I give a galloping Grindylow!"

Harry was too busy wondering about if Grindylows could actually gallop to answer. As was usual these days, Ron took his silence as tacit agreement.

On the topic of Malfoy, Harry was actually leaning more towards Hermione's side of the argument than Ron's, though he'd never admit it to the other boy. Yet what if something horrific actually had happened to Malfoy? What if it involved Voldemort? What if something had... happened to his parents?

Ron may not have understood this, but Harry knew how it felt not to have parents. He wouldn't wish it on anyone, even somebody like Malfoy who had often made fun of the fact that his parents weren't alive.

Sometimes Ron really was too insensitive for his own good, though in most other respects he was a genuinely great person and friend. _Well_, Harry thought, _everyone has their faults and it's not as if Malfoy's ever been gracious to Ron. Hermione cannot expect him to be a perfectly gracious person in return, no matter what her personal agenda may be. She needs to stop trying to make people into what she wants._

_Still, if I can put aside my differences enough to accept that Malfoy will be around for the next few weeks... perhaps some relationships really can change._

He tried to conjure up pictures of he and Malfoy laughing with each other, not at one another, walking around the Hogwarts grounds together, studying Potions together...

_Perhaps not._

_

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A/N: Thanks to Kate518 (nice to see you again!) ForeverJynxed (thanks for a lovely review - here's another update for ya!) JMCaptein, Shelbyyy, like a message and CHEEKY-HERMIONE for the latest reviews! I should be getting another chapter out soon! :) - purplerawr  
_


	6. Itching

_Itching_

Draco spent the next few days in his little room, mostly alone. The morning after the incident with the doxycide (which Mrs. Weasley had taken care of after a considerable amount of coaxing) Severus had returned with a few of his belongings in a shrinkable bag. A few things being three changes of robes, a couple of books that had been on his bedside table, a set of chess which had been a recent Christmas present from his parents and served as yet another painful reminder of his past, some basic school things and his wand. Oh, his wand! He could hardly put it down for the first few hours after getting it back; it felt so wonderful and secure in his hand. Even if he couldn't use it, it still felt good to be there.

The first day of solace had been wonderful - he had read nearly an entire book on Dragons around the world, which his mother had bought when she saw it, the picture of the majestic White Finnish Thornback on the cover having reminded her of her similarly beautiful son. He had also eagerly consumed all the food that the woman, called Molly as he now remembered, brought him. He blamed his new, ridiculous appetite on the intruder in his body, always indecorous in hunger and other such desires.

The second day had also been pleasant, though he kept on being distracted by feelings of empty aching, of which he could not identify the proper source. So many things rushed through his head when he tried to decipher what the feeling meant - his father, briefly touching his shoulder in a seldom seen act of affection before he was taken to Azkaban. Draco himself, blindfolded, bitten. His mother's eye barely visible at the door, yet seeing every inch of his shame. A boy, who didn't belong in his head, slumped at the dining room table and staring at nothing, unseeing.

It all felt too complex to understand and the wolf, as he separately referred to it, wanted him simply to live by instinct and movement, lying back and sitting up again constantly, eating with gusto, fidgeting and humming, not trying to understand what was going on inside of him.

Perhaps for once the wolf was thinking the right thing, if it ever did properly think about anything that was not killing or damaging.

The third day was hell. The wolf in him, and perhaps some parts of himself, pined for human company and sounds, smells, new sights. Not the dark confines of his room. It felt like the walls were closing in, closer and closer, and if he did not free himself soon they would crush him.

Yet the other parts of him, the stubborn child, the haughty aristocrat, the heir of Malfoy, refused and made him stay put. He would not deign to show his face to those idiots, especially the Weasel, after the whole undignified incident with the doxies. Never again would he listen to the impulses that had first led him to the dining room, to spring himself upon the Golden Trio, because it was simply not worth his while. Mudbloods and Blood Traitors would never be worth his while, he told himself in a voice that sounded eerily similar to his father's.

_But you want to see them really_, the wolf whined in a voice disturbingly similar to his own. _You want to see him again, don't you?_

_Him, him who? Shut up_. Draco replied, irritated, and the wolf growled and quietened down resentfully. He found it much easier to imagine it as an intangible separate entity than a part of his own body, so he imagined that it would growl. He could even feel its brooding look and the irritated flick of its tail.

He heard a knock on the door and, quickly casting a tempus charm, he frowned. It was not yet dinner time - why was Molly here so early?

It was not Molly at all - it was the werewolf, Lupin. Draco immediately sat up and defensively crossed his arms, not wishing to lay vulnerable so the man could attack him. Though why would he? Draco was already infected. Yet he wanted to keep up appearances of being above Lupin, which in every other way he was certain he still was.

"Hello," the beast said after an awkward pause and Draco wanted to scoff. _How articulate. _He improved with the next sentence. "How has the ointment been working for you?"

"Fine." He decided to award the pathetic man's effort with the sound of his voice, which he understood to be the vocal equivalent of silk. He flicked a glance toward the bottle of pale golden unguent that was always kept on the little bedside table. He preferred to pretend that it was simply a balm for normal cuts and bruises, not werewolf bites.

"Good, good," The wolf-man hesitated, then inhaled deeply whilst walking over to Draco's bed and sitting on the very edge of it, at the very end. Draco still scooted up until his arms were hugging his knees and his back hit the ornately twisted wrought-iron frame of the bed.

"Look," Lupin began a speech that sounded nervously rehearsed, "if you ever need to ask a question or just talk, I'm one of the best people to go to. I mean there aren't many other people around who know exactly what being a werewolf is." He gestured to himself with a light humour, this time there was no animosity when he referred to the infliction. Perhaps it had simply been a hatred of Greyback that had caused the bitterness the first time, Draco reflected, thinking of his first meeting with Lupin. _Merlin knows I hate that brute Greyback now, more than my old self did before. But why does Lupin?_

Lupin's expectant expression reminded Draco that he was supposed to supply an answer of some sort. His first reaction was to brush him off, but the annoying parts of him (wolf and all) begged to differ. They wanted to open up - and badly. Draco opted to go halfway and ask questions instead.

He would have asked the first, concerning his upcoming transformation, if someone else had not opened the door. Draco could have growled himself then - it was the Weasel.

"Lupin, I heard you were - oh..." He froze when he took in the sight of Draco on the bed, not having the good grace to walk the hell out of there. Draco would have made him if he weren't so frozen himself. The memories of doxycide in his eyes and on his face were painful ones after all.

"Yes, Ron, I'm visiting." Lupin replied mildly, not ordering the Weasel away as Draco had hoped he would. He really was useless in every way. Draco, never that hard to anger, could feel the resentment and hatred clawing its way up his throat - he just wanted to get them out of there, fast. He decided to try shock tactics, readying his most disdaining voice and frame of mind.

"I don't take pity, Lupin, especially from werewolf scum like you. Leave me alone." The words clearly took their effect on Lupin; with a worried look he got up and nodded as if respecting Draco's choice, looking as if about to leave.

Ron was not as compliant.

"How dare you talk to him like that! You're a werewolf too!" No, not compliant at all. How the hell did he know?

"I just heard what Lupin said!" Ron answered his silent question, his mouth curling in the victory of what he knew, and Draco could have reeled if he had not practised for years not to show such feelings.

"Ron," Lupin's voice took on a tinge of determination Draco had previously thought impossible of it, "Please keep quiet about this. It should be up to Draco who does and doesn't know of this from now on."

He could see the Weasel's struggle, the ambivalence of what he thought was nobility and the urge to shout Draco's secret loudly enough so that even the surrounding Muggles would know all about it. Part of him enjoyed it, but the rest of him saw sense past making the Weasel uncomfortable and was on a cliff's edge, waiting for the struggling boy to push him off.

"Okay, I won't tell." The decision was made and Draco let out a breath he had been subconsciously holding, letting himself stagger back from the cliff and regain some sort of balance. Perhaps the Weasel wasn't quite as bad as he had first thought... he rejected the notion on principle. "Just so I know - who else knows?" His voice was gruff with annoyance at missed opportunities and Draco wanted to sun himself in the redhead's sour glow.

"All the adult members of the Order and now yourself. And Draco here, of course." Another of Lupin's attempts at humour to lighten the mood fell flat on its face and decided to die there and then. Draco scoffed and then hastily covered it up as a mild cough when Ron started to look angry again. Surely that boy would die of high blood pressure. Draco was pleased that he had that kind of effect on him.

"Okay," Ron replied, as if answering an entirely different question that he had probably asked in his head, and thankfully shut the door behind him. Draco heard the glorious sound of him waling away and revelled in it until Lupin so rudely called attention to himself again.

"So, is there anything you'd like to talk about?" He almost looked hopeful. It was odd - Draco was used to most people not giving a damn about his feelings, yet here was a man he barely knew requiring about the very thing. He did not like it.

"No, thank you, what I said earlier was true." He replied and the wolf inside tried to argue but he ignored it. He would not go back on his word, for that was not what a Malfoy did. He was definitely still a Malfoy, if only by half his blood, and would stand by Malfoy values. At least that's what he would be telling himself for now.

"Okay then," Lupin replied, not defeated, "are you coming downstairs for dinner? Molly thinks it was about time you had some more human contact."

"So you're saying I'm not human?" Draco was quick to jump in, trying to incriminate the man in his mind for anything apart from being a werewolf.

"Of course not," he answered calmly, looking mildly amused, "you're as human as I am, Draco."

_What is that supposed to mean? And since when was he on first name terms with me? I swear nobody in this place has proper manners!_

"Come on, downstairs with you." Lupin's version of an order followed him down the stairs, as did Draco, albeit with extreme reluctance that he did not show. He would enter the room of enemies with confidence and decorum, not showing his fear. His father had taught him that over and over, so he could not forget it in testing times like these.

He didn't care what anyone thought - he was still his father's son, his mother's child. No matter what dark beasts and secrets lurked inside of him, he was still a Malfoy.

* * *

**A/N: thank you so much to CHEEKY-HERMIONE, miss quirky bookworm (loving the name!), xshootingstar (awww, but Harry's a lovely creep :D), ForeverJynxed (one of the best reviews I've ever gotten! Ah, I love Ron, even if he is thick...) dragonlilly1993 (for two reviews! whoo!) JMCaptein (yeah, I usually prefer writing Draco POV to Harry's, but I felt it was needed) and funnyducky (lovely to hear from you again! :D)**

**Next time on PW (cue dramatic music): Draco suffers dinner with the Order, random conversations with himself and extremely confusing feelings! (and this'll be a longer than usual chapter, oh yes, because of my love for you all!) **


	7. Consuming

_Consuming_

On his way down the creaking stairs, Draco decided three things. Firstly, he was going to act as if the Weasel didn't exist, for he would admit to himself that it was not a good idea to provoke him given the knowledge he now possessed (though he refused to call it self-inflicted blackmail!) Secondly, he was going to act gracious and refined as an example to the animalistic Gryffindors and their lack of table manners. Lastly, he was going to eat as much as he possibly could without looking like a complete animal himself (to try and please both the wolf and himself, for he realized that if he didn't try to appease the beast he would begin to feel sick.)

His stomach rumbled in a very undignified manner and Remus chuckled as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Ah, the first year or so you get hungry constantly - it's the wolf wanting you to build up enough muscle to withstand transformations more easily." He smiled good-naturedly. "By the looks of you, it may take a little while."

It didn't take long for Draco to understand that the man was actually making fun of him. "There's nothing wrong with my body." He replied haughtily, the picture of disdain. Lupin merely smiled again and turned away, earning a glare to the back of the head. He was just as bad as all the other Gryffindors.

On entering the dining room, full of the people he knew of living here and a few others he did not recognize, Draco kept his gaze on the table and took a seat in the corner, beside the two surliest looking people - namely a very tall, solemn man with dark skin and a solemn expression and a squat, dirty looking man with drooping eyes who looked as if he'd rather be somewhere else. They were slightly unnerving, but at least they were quiet. Draco noted that Remus sat directly across from him. What was he, a babysitter?

Down the other end of the table conversation was in full swing. Granger and the Weasley girl were nearly convulsing with laughter at a very strange looking woman with offensively bright pink hair who was constantly morphing her nose into unsightly shapes with a spell Draco had never seen before. Opposite them four more Weasleys sat, namely the youngest boys and a man he recognized to be their father, in a heated conversation about Quidditch which Draco wouldn't have minded joining if it had comprised of better participants than the current options available.

Potter sat at the other end of the table to him, trying in vain to hide the fact that he was acting like a sulky bastard again. This time, Draco had no sympathy. Not that he ever had.

Everybody perked up considerably, even old droopy eyes, when food was magicked onto the table. Draco looked upon toad in the hole, mashed potato and assorted vegetables and his eyes couldn't help but light up when the wonderful smell of it wafted into his nostrils. He did not hesitate to seize his fork and stab the first delicious victim of a mouthful. When he looked up he could see Lupin watching him, with a knowing look on his face. Draco first scowled at him and then promptly forgot he existed. It was easier that way.

Mrs. Weasley promptly entered the room afterwards; she was surprisingly blasé about making what Draco thought to be a culinary triumph, even by his standards. Within a few minutes he was onto seconds, he couldn't help himself. Though he tried to eat more slowly. The Weasley matriarch sat next to Remus, as if another of his bodyguards.

"Draco," she tore his attention away from his plate, "This is Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror in the Ministry. And this is..." she grimaced only slightly, "Mundungus Fletcher." Both merely nodded at the sound of their names. "You know Remus, of course, and all the children. Oh, that's Tonks between Hermione and Ginny, she's a lovely girl." With this she sent a pointed look at Lupin, who conveniently looked away and examined his fork with intense interest.

_What's going on there then?_ Draco smirked internally; it seemed that he was as nosey as always, no matter how much he had... changed recently. He was sure he would find out soon enough - these people were always so embarrassingly obvious about themselves; it was as if their faces were all open books just asking to be read.

This especially applied to Potter, who looked pathetically miserable and slouched, his food half-eaten and going cold on his plate. Draco could have lamented the waste. Though, again, he couldn't help but wonder what inspired such a soul-sucking change in a boy whom he remembered to be constantly blundering around, shouting and running around and generally bringing attention to himself. He cut himself short - he really, really didn't care.

The wolf disagreed. _You want to know, I want to know, we all want to know._

_You make it sound like I have a split personality disorder._

_Maybe you do?_

_For Merlin's sake, shut up_. It didn't even feel like he was talking to himself any more, the wolf had taken on a life of its own.

_I'll shut up if you admit it._

_Fine, so what if I'm curious? I would only use the information against him._

_Really?_ The beast asked sceptically.

_Really_, he answered defiantly. _That's what I've always done and some things never change._

_Perhaps it's about time you changed?_

_I think you've changed me enough, thank you very much._

The wolf said no more, perhaps having given up on the pointless argument. Draco started his third helping as celebration.

***

Harry could not bring himself to finish the food on his plate, feeling guilty to leave it yet not letting himself. It was a vicious circle he often trapped himself in nowadays, making himself spiral down and down until he could hardly bring himself to move, let alone do anything constructive or rational but stare into space and try to empty himself of memories involving Sirius. Not that it ever worked.

He distantly heard Ron talking to him and then got a nudge in the elbow and forced his brain to resurface from the images of his godfather disappearing through a veil that were currently trying to drown him. He would not let them take over, though they tried frequently.

"Mate, you okay?" Harry knew well his tone of voice - Ron was getting worried about him again. He summed up all his strength to comfort his friend.

"I have a stomach ache, that's all. I think I'll go to bed early." He rose, clutching the table for support, and felt Ron's eyes burning into him as he left. In fact, everyone was probably staring, pitying him and feeling sad for his sake. He hated it.

He had nearly reached the stairs when a voice he didn't really want to hear stopped him in his tracks.

"Potter, I'm curious," Malfoy's attempt at innocence really wasn't convincing, "why are you acting so lifeless all of the time? I don't find it very entertaining, you know."

There was something in that smarmy, smooth voice that always inspired rage. Filled with disbelief and a sudden anger that shocked him in its force, Harry turned slowly and fixed him with a stare. "Oh really? What do you suggest I do then?"

"Go back to your predictable, ridiculous self so I can annoy you more easily. Simple enough, really, even for someone of your intelligence." A small smirk was working its way up his haughty little mouth and Harry just wanted to punch it away. He tried to control the pure wrath, full of feeling he had not felt for a long while, but it was radiating through his skin, pushing him forward and his hand to grab the front of Draco's robes.

"Well why the fuck are you here?" He hissed in a voice so unlike his own that his mind protested, but his instincts ignored it. He didn't even begin to think of who he sounded like.

Draco looked temporarily thrown (perhaps he had made the very same comparison?) but then composed himself smoothly again. "You tell me and maybe I'll tell you."

Harry let go and pushed him back, but irritatingly he managed to keep a balance that seemed almost inhuman. "No deal. Bugger off."

"Oh, Potter, we're certainly in a bad mood now. It's refreshing - this is the first time I've heard you angry in a while." Harry's stomach sank when he realized that Draco's voice was following him up the stairs.

"I told you, bugger off." He said a bit more loudly once they had reached the empty landing, the conversation downstairs now just a dim buzz he wished he was still a detached part of. Anything was better than being alone with Malfoy.

"I don't want to," he answered simply and carried on following. Harry found the right room and quickly opened the door, slamming it in Malfoy's face. A pale hand found the handle and turned just before Harry manually lock it. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Potter." Draco's face appeared as he leaned on the door frame, his face completely ugly with smugness. Well, that's how Harry let himself describe it.

"How about I spell you into oblivion?" He tried and Draco laughed, a scathing sound that grated on his ears.

"As if you would do something so immoral, Gryffindor's little Golden Boy. Face it, I'd kill you before you'd even get the courage to point your wand. I'm dangerous, Potter." The softness of his words contained a joke and sadness simultaneously, both of which Harry didn't quite understand but suddenly wanted to.

"What do you mean," he hardly believed he was asking it, "All the dark arts your father taught you?"

"No." Draco looked resentful, so Harry took it as truth. Of course he'd want to learn dark arts, but perhaps his father had seen him as too young. Or he had been taught, and was simply resentful with thoughts about his father? Harry grew quickly confused and all the more curious.

"What then? What makes you so dangerous?"

***

Draco toyed with the idea of just blurting out the truth, stroking his hand over the box containing the secret with a sense of guilty pleasure. He would feel vulnerable revealing it to anyone who didn't already know, yet scaring Harry like that would be simply delightful. He tore his hand away - there was just no way he could say something like that.

_A lie. Think think think-_

"Okay, you don't have to tell me." Potter cut across him and Draco blinked. Since when had he taken back an intrusive question like that? It seemed so unlike him.

"Fine then, if you're too afraid." Draco just had to have an insult in there somewhere, to regain himself. "So, will you answer my question?" He sat down on the other bed, which seemed unused enough, and stared expectantly at him. He had no idea why he was even there, why he had slipped out of the room just after Potter had, and why he could not look away. The wolf made as if to speak up, but he stopped it. He did not want to be distracted by little made up voices speaking to him - someone might think him insane for it.

A pained expression passed behind the glasses, but otherwise Potter remained unchanged. It just intrigued Draco even more. Then, most suddenly, his lip turned upwards.

"That's Ron's bed, you know." As a reaction Draco leapt up and moved away and tried to pass it off as what he had always intended to do. Harry full out laughed this time, a sound surprisingly soft and nonchalant for someone always so absurdly loud and emotional. "It seems I'm not the only predictable one." He commented and Draco aimed a glare at him.

"I am in no way predictable, Potter, I was simply taken by surprise," Draco answered, painfully aware that his haughty tone must also have been predictable, "your assumptions have no ground in fact."

"Neither did yours." Potter replied, sounding grumpy again. _How predictable._

"So why are you here anyway? I know I've never been your first choice of company."

Draco's stomach made an uncomfortable jump and he resisted wrapping his arms around it for protection. That was a question he simply could not answer, not even to himself.

"Don't change the subject. Why are you being so pathetic?"

"Why are you here?"

"Why are you being so pathetic?" Draco moved closer, anger squirming through him, to intimidate the enemy.

"Why are you here?" Potter asked again, standing and also taking a step forwards so that he towered slightly over Draco. _Damn you and your constant growth spurts!_

"Why are you..." he forgot the rest of the sentence when Potter's scent, not in the least bit as unpleasant as he had always imagined it, took over him and turned his brain into an remarkable goo within moments. The wolf growled, satisfied, and Draco ignored the conclusions it had inconsiderately jumped to.

Potter frowned, and somewhere in Draco's clearly messed up brain he registered it as endearing, attractive even. _Such lovely green eyes... and those lips..._

"What's wrong with you?" At first Draco was worried that it was an incredulous question aimed at him about the sudden... fascination... he had no reason to feel, but then he realized it was a question seeking after his health, only put in a very crude way as was the nature of their relationship.

"Nothing, nothing," he mumbled, his voice strained with all manners of feelings he really did not want to identify, and he tried to back away but somehow he just couldn't. This sudden turn in mood was completely consuming him in its terrifying brute strength.

Potter looked sceptical. "Are you... sure? You look feverish."

Draco lifted a hand to his face and could feel the pumping heat there, turning his composed visage into a furnace of... well, he could no longer hide it, desire. Want. Need. Attraction. Call it what you will. It was this shocking realisation that finally made him tear away, his more rational self taking the reins and telling him to retreat as speedily as possible. He could hear the wolf sulking and whining but he ignored it. It wanted all the wrong things, things he couldn't possibly want himself.

He slammed the door on his way out, which was probably something he could have gone without doing. Potter would probably think him insane. Well, that was better than Potter knowing what he really had been feeling. Then he would have been taken to St. Mungo's Mental Malady Unit.

He completely and utterly blamed the wolf.

***

Harry stood still, staring at the newly slammed door, for more than a few moments. What the hell had that all been about? His hand was still half raised, halted in its tentative journey to touch Malfoy's shoulder. Well, he had looked as if he was about to pass out from... whatever that had been.

He was so bemused and intrigued by the incident that even for a little while he subconsciously repressed the looping video in his head of Sirius' face being consumed by the black fabric of the veil, sitting back down on his bed and replaying their conversation over in his head...

* * *

**A/N: Well, wasn't that exciting? :P Plot development! Thank you veeery much for reviews: iLoveless4ev (thanks for leaving a review! I think this is the first story where I've written Draco quite accurately XD) , miss quirky bookworm (yep, Snape snuck into the Mansion just to get a few things that wouldn't really be noticed if they went missing), Kate518 (I'm glad it intrigues you!), KoiinuNe (hmm... Ron is rather impulsive like that, I haven't decided what to do with him... yet =P) & xshootingstar (Nope, last time I checked I wasn't a werewolf =S maybe I am secretly haha) I love all my reviewers and readers! =)  
**


	8. Enduring

_Enduring_

After the incident, which Draco would not even dignify with a name, he swiftly retreated to his room and threw himself onto his bed. That did not just happen. It didn't exist. It was a few minutes in an alternate reality where he had acted like an idiot; it was not a real event.

_Who am I kidding? I just acted like an idiot in front of Harry bloody Potter and I have no idea why._

It helped that he was feeling rather tired after all the food he had eaten and the later embarrassment to accompany the exhaustion he had felt ever since entering enemy territory. He felt as if he was constantly on watch in one way or another - it was tiring work. Not that he'd be relaxing any time soon.

Instead of carefully scrutinizing his memory of the whole thing, he let it fade and distort, becoming satisfyingly unreal, and slowly drifted into an uncomfortable sleep of blurred, fuzzy bad dreams that he could hardly remember the next morning.

He woke still feeling tired, but felt no point in trying to go to sleep again. The small amount of light finding a way past the heavy curtains was dull and grey, signifying that it was still early in the morning. Draco rose slowly and stretched, every sinew of his body moving into place and trying to properly wake up.

He showered and dressed languidly, giving himself time to mentally prepare for going out on the verbal battlefield that was a house of Gryffindors, and a decent hour had passed by the time he was opening his bedroom door and peering out onto the landing. Thankfully, there was nobody there, but he could hear distant sounds coming from downstairs.

The sounds of cooking. The smells of cooking! Draco's stomach, obviously being controlled by the wolf, started to rumble in desire for sustenance and he let it lead as he walked down the stairs and in the direction of the kitchen, in which he had never entered before. He usually never felt the need to be in kitchens. He was always the one being served, not the one serving.

It happened to be a pleasant experience seeing Mrs. Weasley, looking bright and cheerful and in the mindset of work, chopping and preparing and constantly checking on pots and pans that were steaming and crackling away merrily like a delicious Potions experiment. For a few minutes he just watched, but then she turned around and fixed him with a smile.

"Good morning, Draco," she said in a singsong voice that was surprisingly easy on the ears and Draco nodded in return. His nose led him further towards the food, sniffing the air perhaps as a real wolf would. Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Hungry already? It won't be done for a little while."

"Why do you do food the Mud- Muggle way?" He asked, peering into the pans of all the different components of an English breakfast. He thought that if he ignored the near slip she would too. It seemed that for once luck was on his side.

"Ah, there's no better way in my opinion. Magic is faster, but just doesn't compare in quality to when you do it by hand. Food is meant to be prepared by your own two hands, not your wand." She glanced at him, noting his utter fascination. "Have you ever cooked before?"

"Goodness no," Draco replied, not even registering how haughty it must have sounded, "at home... at home we always left it to the house elves."

"I suppose so," she replied mildly, "well, I'll just have to teach you, won't I?"

Draco didn't know whether to feel apprehensive or intrigued. He didn't answer as a result and Mrs. Weasley smiled again.

"It's one of those things you should know. How about for today you just watch me?" Draco seemed more comfortable with this - the poor boy, he really didn't know how to fend for himself due to a sheltered life where everything had been done for him. Molly firmly decided that she would be teaching him all the basics over the holidays if it were the last thing she ever did.

***

Harry woke as he usually did, abruptly and expecting it to be too early to get up, but he was pleasantly surprised by the late quality of the light outside, pouring into the small room, and Ron's empty bed next to him, covers laid haphazardly on the floor. Ron never woke earlier than he did - it must have been rather late indeed.

He got up with ease, in awe with how rested and balanced he felt, and quickly showered and dressed. He had already wasted some of the day he could have been up, so he would not be wasting more. He led himself to the dining room, enticed by the sounds of laughter and cutlery scraping plates, and found himself in a room of cheerful people, even Malfoy included.

Malfoy... he tried not to dwell on that. What happened yesterday had certainly been an anomaly in their relationship, in fact he had never seen Malfoy acting so oddly, but he thought it was probably just the overall strangeness of where the boy was now and the people he was with. He was meant to be with his conceited parents in a giant manor, not in the foreboding, still quite grimy house of Black with a collection of people he had always detested. It was just that.

Four or five greetings, most out of half full mouths, were sent his way and he smiled, selecting a seat closest to him and reaching across to take the plate that was being offered to him, scanning the table for the food he wanted.

As he ate the food felt real and tangible and tasted fine, not like cardboard. His body felt relaxed, not tensed up and sore. Though his mind felt mostly the same as it had for days, dominated by thoughts of Sirius and heavy in his head. He knew that progress would be slow, but at least he was feeling slightly better physically.

***

Draco had been so distracted by food and numerous voices floating over his head that he had not, for once, sensed Potter entering the room. That had always been a knack of his, even pre-beast. Then he felt a pair of eyes passing over him and looked up, his heart constricting when they met his own. He immediately looked down again, trying to ignore how his pulse now raced and how his palms were growing clammy.

_What was that all about?_

Not even the wolf's voice had an answer, and he was unsure whether to feel relieved or not. Sometimes the wolf had good insight, but sometimes it scared him with its accuracy about what was going on unbeknownst to him in his head and the heart that he usually ignored.

"Draco," a familiar voice brought him back to reality, "We should have a chat about... our shared predicament... after breakfast." It was Lupin, looking as tired as he felt.

He nodded - the full moon was in about a week and a half after all. He tried not to think about it, but there always came a time when things must be discussed. Even Draco accepted that.

He finished quickly and Lupin left the room, a silent indicator that he should follow. As he left he fancied that Potter's eyes were burning into his back, but he knew it wasn't true. The git was having a conversation with the Weasel.

In the hallway he just caught sight of Lupin opening a door, looking back at him, and walking into the room there. Draco followed, knowing he was being far too trusting seeming as he had not yet analyzed that room for possibly enemies and danger... Still, he did have questions to ask about what would be happening in a week (to which the wolf was rejoicing and no other part of him was) so threw caution to the fiendfyre.

"So," Lupin sounded as if he was a teacher about to begin a lecture, "The full moon is in a week or so. I won't lie to you - transformations are painful. This is why you should try and get as much rest as possible until then, though this may also be hard as you're becoming more sensitive to the subtle changes that are readying you for your first transformation."

"Subtle changes? As in physical changes?" Draco dreaded what they could be. Would his eyes change to the disconcertingly bright amber colour that Lupins' were? Would he start to grow fur in odd places? Start cultivating unsightly canine teeth?

"Not so much physical, we're talking mentally here. You may have already noticed that your emotions are more intense than usual," he glanced at Draco as if checking he even had emotions, "and you might become more irrational and unpredictable in your moods right up until your transformation. Then you should be fine until next month."

"Oh joy." Draco collapsed into the nearest sofa, not even caring that it could have been one of the ones that had the nasty habit of trying to eat anybody that wasn't from the house of Black. _I'm half Black, leave me alone._

"It's a bit like PMS really, but with much more dramatic physical side effects." Lupin said, perhaps to himself, and chuckled quietly. Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

"Pee em es? What are you on about?"

"Never mind. Is there anything else you want to know?"

"Yes," Draco said too quickly for his own liking, "Are there any physical changes at all?" _Such as random romantic attractions to the most unlikely people?_

"One or two," Remus looked thoughtful, "they're hard to list once you're used to them. For one, you become much more graceful and mindful or your surroundings. Also, you tend to need to drink and eat more than you did before, but after a year or two this passes. Also, your senses heighten. Basically all your desires, like hunger and thirst, are augmented. That's about it, apart from full moon changes."

"So you don't get any strange feelings that you've never had before?" That was as subtlety as he could put it. Lupin still gave him a curious look and Draco's eyes, not succumbing to his stubborn will, darted away to look at the wallpaper.

"No, I don't remember anything like that," he answered carefully, "The wolf doesn't have desires of its own as such, for it's not a separate entity, but it can heighten certain desires that you already have and bring out worse sides in you if you're not careful, such as blood lust."

_I'm thinking of a different kind of lust, which is much worse! How could I possibly have already felt that? Impossible, that's what it is. My wolf certainly feels like a separate entity now, so perhaps this desire is completely the wolf's? I don't care what he says, I'm right, I'm always-_

"Though remember..." Remus waited until Draco looked back at him, distressed about something as far as he could fathom, then spoke again, "remember that not all desires are bad."

_But this is a bad desire, I'm sure of it._

As Lupin left, Draco was still slowly sinking into the sofa; he resolved that he would just have to wait until after the transformation. Then, hopefully his irrational feelings would reorganize themselves, seeming as for once he was unable to suss them out himself, and he would stop feeling anything but dislike for Harry Potter.

He would just have to endure it for now.

Today's task, carefully monitored by Mrs. Weasley, was the clearing out a very sinister looking glass-fronted corner cabinet in the dining room that was full to the brim with old artefacts, heirlooms, leather-bound books and dusty old photographs.

Only he and Ron first started the task, wearing special gloves that warded against most curses (though Harry dreaded to think about some of the complex curses that had been encountered in this household before) but then Mrs. Weasley left for a few minutes, telling them to stop and sit with their hands to themselves, and came back with Malfoy, which had been an unpleasant shock for all three boys involved.

Mrs. Weasley surveyed them with a look that quelled any negative comments that could have been exchanged during those moments. She certainly was a fearsome woman, Draco credited her that.

"Now, boys, I need to get dinner started so Draco's going to watch over you instead - he'll give me a shout if you need help. All right? Brilliant!" With that she flounced off, clearly wanting to get out of the room before anybody could protest. Ron looked mutinous, but then his gaze pinned on Draco and he looked away again, his expression turning to one of discontent resolution. Harry didn't understand it at all and, knowing Ron's somewhat illogical mood swings, he did not want to.

Malfoy looked almost wary, watching Ron carefully, and Harry didn't understand that either. Something had happened that he did not know about - had Ron decided to try attacking Malfoy again? It seemed likely enough. Brushing off his thoughts, Harry put on his gloves again and, with a sharp draw of breath, picked up a small vial of something that looked suspiciously like congealed blood and carefully put it in one of the small, black, magic-proof bags lying around them on the floor.

Malfoy was now standing next to them, his curiosity of what were family heirlooms having led him closer. Harry entertained the thought that he must have been enjoying looking down at them in a superior manner. Instead of the usual anger that accompanied that sort of thought, he internally rolled his eyes - Malfoy really was up himself.

Ron took the next turn, choosing one of the more recent looking photographs. Before placing it in the bag he studied it out of a brief interest. Harry looked it over too, seeing that it was of three girls, all very different in appearance yet similar in age, standing in the room they were in now. The one on the left had mousy brown hair and a plain face, and was smiling slightly as if she was unsure whether or not to. The one in the middle he recognized with a chill of revulsion and ugly fury down his spine - Bellatrix Black. He could identify her by her long dark hair and hooded eyes, though here she looked much less insane and even mildly pleasant as she stared into the camera. The one on the right was also recognizable - Narcissa Malfoy in all her willowy, blonde glory, the superior sneer that had been practiced many times since already beginning to show on her features.

Harry looked up at Malfoy, who was studying the picture with intense interest, his focus pinpointed on the blonde girl who did remind Harry of the boy himself. Harry swore he could almost feel the pain that flickered in his iridescent eyes. Though he only had a second or two to study them before Malfoy turned away and quickly exited the room without a word of warning.

"What's he playing at?" Ron said disbelievingly, "He's supposed to stay here in case one of us gets cursed!"

"Ah well," Harry tried to distract Ron from his rising temper, "we can have a break then." He supported this idea by taking off his gloves, letting them drop to the floor, and stretching his arms until his shoulder muscles clicked.

Ron shone him a grin. "What a fantastic idea, mate! I'll just go tell mum that Malfoy's gone and had a hissy fit so we can't possibly work anymore..."

With that Ron left, humming to himself jovially. Harry sat back, letting himself drop the smile and close his eyes, his body drooping and sagging as he let himself go. Sometimes it was too much effort acting happy.

"Harry?" A voice was at the door, very much unwanted. Though it was Hermione, so he was hardly going to tell her to go away. He only had enough effort to open his eyes again and smile softly at her, his body still in its state of surrender. "What's wrong?"

He had no sufficient answer for her and she already knew anyway. Sirius was dead. That was what was wrong. Why did she need to ask constantly?

"Harry, please..." she tried again, walking over and crouching down to look more closely at him, as if he were one of the curious artefacts in the cabinet himself, "please talk to me. I know I said I wouldn't push the issue, but I'm getting so worried. We all are."

_Oh God... _Ron had walked into the room too and was nodding, his lips pulled downwards and a line of fret on his forehead. It was a double attack - Harry had to retreat and quickly.

"I'm going upstairs." He said quickly, tired of excuses, and brushed past Ron quickly as he went through the door. He could feel them following him, just not giving up! He quickened his pace, jogging nimbly up the stairs. He reached the landing and could hear them talking, their voices becoming further away, but he still wanted to hide in case if they tried again.

Unfortunately, Remus had happened to be on the landing and had seen the trapped look on his face.

"Harry, is everything okay?" The look on his face was one of understanding and showed a fraction of the grief that he must have been feeling for his lost friend, but none of this was of any comfort to Harry. He didn't want these questions, invasions in his head, he wanted meaningless silence.

"Everything's fine." He replied quickly and then reached for the handle to the door of his room. He hesitated - he couldn't hide from Ron in a room that also belonged to him. He sensed, with relief, that Remus had gone back along the landing, obviously sensing that he needed some space.

On impulse he walked to the door next to the one he had originally been reaching before, a door he had never opened in all his time staying at Grimmauld Place. It was exactly the same as the first one, yet it held a mysterious quality to it - what was inside? He had never seen anyone enter it, nor heard anything from its depths.

He opened it quickly, hurling himself through and immediately turning to shut it. For a few seconds he stayed facing the door, feeling a childish fear of turning around and finding a monster there, waiting to lunge at him.

When he did turn around he found something much more scary than any monster - he instead laid eyes upon a distinctly blotchy cheeked, exhausted looking Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**A/N: Tons of hugs to Merthurtilidie, egoXlockheart (sorry, I don't mean to effect your yaoi health - there will be more, but I just love all the sexual tension of pre-slash :P) JMCaptein (yeah... I think Draco having the wolf talking to him suits his personality - if I was an only child I'd have tons of imaginary friends haha) miss quirky bookworm and funnyducky (you don't need to apologise! XD I appreciate your reviews whenever!)**

**This is your slightly early "Winter Holiday" present (see? I'm being p.c.) especially for all my awesome reviewers! **


	9. Talking

_Talking_

He had just cried out days, weeks, no, years of grief and frustration and Potter had to have stood witness to such a monumental display of weakness. Life just wasn't fair. He blurted out the first thing that popped into his head just to kill the oppressive silence.

"A Malfoy never cries." It was one of his father's many mantras that had constantly haunted his early childhood and then grown obsolete. He had been conditioned not to be the emotional type - until now, it seemed.

"Okay," Potter replied, clearly uncomfortable. Draco didn't understand why he hadn't left already with a terrified slam of the door. He dreaded to think what he must have looked like, snotty and puffy eyed.

_"Harry?"_

_"Where'd you go, mate?"_

_"We just want to talk about it..."_

Ah. He understood perfectly why outside the room also seemed like a bad prospect to Potter. They spent a few moments staring at each other blankly. Draco then managed to retrieve his brain from the depths of his skull.

"Do come in. Make yourself at home." He commented sarcastically and order was returned to their worlds. Potter also unfroze enough to form coherent sentences.

"How could I? This place feels like a morgue - are you a vampire or something?"

_Close, but no sickle_ Draco thought, letting himself smirk wryly.

Without even asking Potter walked over to the wide window and opened the curtains completely, making Draco squint and self-consciously remember again what he must have looked like. He wished dearly he were old enough to be able to hide his patchy skin behind a glamour. Clearly fate was against him (if his being turned into a werewolf had been no prior indicator.)

"So," he began trying to turn Potter's attention to something different, "hiding from your other two thirds?"

Potter gave a guilty grimace, but still came up with a batch of half-baked lies to try and cover it up. "Firstly, we're not that inseparable. Secondly, I'm not hiding from them. I, erm - I came to visit you."

"Liar." Draco pronounced, smirking, and Harry shrugged in a way that did not please him in the slightest. It was far too calm and collected for _Potter_.

"You don't know that," he replied enigmatically, his attention having turned to the book on dragons that he had moved to sit down on the armchair in the corner, "I could have been coming to check up on you. You did look a bit... _ill_, yesterday." He opened the book at a random page and suddenly looked very engrossed in it.

Draco's stomach plummeted at the reference to the incident-that-shall-not-be-named. _The nasty git just isn't going to let it go, is he?_

_He's just worried about you._ He wasn't sure if that had been him or the wolf speaking - either way he argued back.

_You're completely mad! Potter wouldn't care a flying Hippogriff about me._

_You'd be surprised from what you could sense from him if you just loosened up a bit and let me show you..._

_You'll have enough power during the full moon, wolf!_

For a few minutes they lapsed into another silence, Potter flicking through the book in a way that made Draco bristle - he was surely scuffing the pages - but he could not help but let his eyes be drawn to the look of only half feigned concentration and interest that lay there on Potter's face. He also couldn't help but notice the way that a thumb idly moved across the dragon on the cover, Draco's dragon, which was curled up and asleep, quelled by the touch.

Draco used the time to lay his cool hands over his hot, itchy eyes, not used to such an emotional carnage as crying. Eventually his face calmed down and he risked taking his hands away, the light once again attacking his eyes so that he could only see Potter's sitting silhouette, his features made indistinct. When he came into focus again he was already looking at Draco.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Potter asked tentatively, closing the book but using his thumb to mark the page. He had every instinct to be tentative - surely he had not ever expected in his wildest nightmares to be asking such questions to someone he had surely always detested. Draco had made no effort to be liked, ever since the initial rejection of the handshake (never would he make that mistake again!)

"I'm fine, Potter, take your hero complex elsewhere. I don't need to be saved." His answer was mocking, disparaging, but it didn't deter the fool with its perfect mixture of angry heat and disdainful coolness.

"Asking if you're okay is not really in the same category as saving you, you know." Draco didn't understand it - none of the irrational anger he was so used to receiving was there. Had Potter really been so damaged by something that he was not just miserable but devoid of emotion? It was absurd.

"People don't have to be in mortal peril to need a saviour, you idiot." Draco replied, risking his still puffy eyes to send a scathing look to the occupant of the chair, "people can need saving from anything."

"Like what?"

Draco sighed. Clearly Potter was not just going to give up and go away. "People need saving from other people saying harsh things to them. They need someone to stand up for them when they can no longer stand up for themselves. They need someone to help them - perhaps even save them from themselves." Draco stopped short, realising that he was waffling - in fact, he can't have made much sense at all. Since when did people need saving from themselves?

Potter seemed to understand it with his warped emotional logic. "I see. You don't think you need saving from any of those things?"

"Of course not - I am completely independent, I can save myself. I would not need you to save me."

"Ron said some harsh things to you earlier. Did you not need saving from that?"

"They meant nothing from me, coming from somebody like him."

"What about," Harry's frown lessened with an amused smile, "the doxycide? I bet you wanted someone to save you from that."

Draco glared again, showing his full disapproval. "Very funny, Potter. It was the Weasel's unfortunate incompetence that let that happen, nothing else. It was an accident. I don't care about it any more."

Potter's eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly. "That's... gracious of you. I thought you'd hold it as a grudge for years." Draco blinked, not having expected a compliment from somebody as ineloquent and blundering as Potter.

"I still hate the Weasel." He answered back quickly, trying to keep the stammer out of his voice.

"So..." Potter bit his lip, clearly undecided on whether to speak or not, "... why are you here?"

Draco could see by the slight ignition of curiosity's flame in his eyes that he had been thinking about it ever since Draco had first set foot in 12 Grimmauld Place. He smiled like a cat that had finally procured a canary. Finally something he could lord over Potter - even if it only was his own dirty little secret.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Potter," he made his voice light and airy, "It's very confidential. You're not important enough to know."

Potter wasn't playing the game. He leaned back in the chair, resting one leg on the knee of his other, surveying Draco on the bed. "Is that so?"

_What is that supposed to mean?_ Draco immediately went on the offensive.

"You think you're important enough to know everything Potter, just because you're the Boy Who Lived? Well deflate your massive ego - you're not the only person who matters in the world. You don't need to know everything."

"I know that."

Draco could have screamed in frustration. What was with him? How could he be so calm and make Draco feel so angry? Why had things changed so much ever since he had been made into a werewolf?

The wolf was far too distracted by Potter's physical presence to answer all his rapid questions, the disgusting beast. Draco tried to ignore that reaction that was so common around Potter now - the sweating palms, the tingles in his skin, the speeding up of his treacherous heart. It wasn't natural, it wasn't healthy, and thus he blamed it on the beast, which was the epitome of unnatural.

"So you don't need to know this." He said, his words more forceful than he had meant them to be. He stared at Potter, who was meant to look away in defeat yet did not. Their staring grew into a stalemate, both too stubborn to look away.

"I may not need to know," Potter said quietly, "but I would like to."

"Like I'd give you what you want, Potter." Draco replied, almost hissing. His body felt hot and too attached to his mind, not separate from his thoughts as it always usually was. He was merging together, coalescing sensation and thought, and slowly losing everything he thought he was. It was not a pleasant experience, but he couldn't stop it, especially when Potter was around.

Thankfully, Potter took this as a farewell and looked away, but with no sense of humiliation. He held up the book. "Can I borrow this?"

Draco's eyes widened as he realized he was nodding. The wolf must have taken temporary control of his body, given the crumbling state it was currently in. Potter smiled, _smiled_, as he walked away with the book, Draco under his thumb again, and shut the door quietly.

_Well, that was confusing._

Draco was haunted by memories of Harry's slight smile as he tried to fall asleep, tossing and turning all night.

* * *

**Well, that was a bit of a gap between updates... sorry! I'm getting a slight block at the moment, on where to take the story next, does anybody have ideas they'd like to contribute? I can't say whether I'd include them or not, but I'd greatly appreciate any input! - purplerawr**

**p.s. Many Drarry thanks to Merthurtilidie, egoXlockheart, Imperial Mint, miss quirky bookworm and blacksta1n for the reviews!**


	10. Peeling

_Peeling_

Draco woke with the sun penetrating his eyes - it was extremely disconcerting, not just because of the throbbing brightness behind his lids, but because he had forgotten to close the blinds before going to sleep the night before. He felt exposed, even if the windows were charmed so that nobody could see into them.

Then a flashing image, a split-second grey silhouette stretching across the window and covering him, and his racing heart calmed its trembling palpitations.

_How pathetic_, he chastised himself and thoroughly brushed all images of yesterday afternoon out of his brain. To further distract himself he performed all necessary morning ablutions, even getting his hair perfect down to the most minute of strands, before he opened his door and looked out into the blotchy, shadowy corridor which provided little comfort to the nerves he constantly felt.

With a quick trickling of understanding he realized that most of the house was still asleep - none of the usual racket was sounding downstairs. He decided that he preferred it this way; the inhabitants were quiet so that the house's natural, eerie song could sound through, a quiet melody of creaks. The only human harmonies were of the slow breath of sleep and a few distant sounds coming from... Draco's sharp senses pinpointed it - from the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley must have been preparing breakfast again before the morning wake-up shout.

His feet crossed the house with more ease this morning, subconsciously using the map of the house he had in his head for all its faults - he could remember each creak in the floorboards, where each room was located (of which he had seen) and where each door and window was. He could probably memorize each crack in the ancient walls if he had felt the need. This talent he did not attribute entirely to the wolf's keen senses - he was much the same with Malfoy Manor, where he had often played isolated hide and seek in as a child.

This is why he surprised Mrs. Weasley again as she turned to grab the peeler.

"Ah, Draco! Good morning!" She said in her cheerful tones and Draco graced her with a small smile, which was only partly feigned.

"Good morning." He replied, his eye already straying to the pots and pans that reminded him so much of concocting potions in Snape's dungeon. With a painful wrench in his stomach he thought about Hogwarts - would he even be allowed back? He found Mrs. Weasley still to be watching him, so made it pass over him and away.

Mrs. Weasley merely smiled at him, though it wasn't with the scorn that someone like Draco's father would have shown for a moment of weakness like that. "Would you like to peel the vegetables for me? It's for dinner tonight - I like to get peeling and chopping out of the way."

Draco blinked. Peeling? He slowly took the proffered peeler and examined it. Mrs. Weasley laughed.

"It's just a peeler. Here, I'll show you how to do it." She summoned another from the draw that opened itself and picked up a carrot. As Draco watched he realized it was rather how he peeled things in Potions with his peeling knife - _this is easy!_

There was something satisfying about peeling the vegetables that he had never before felt - a simple, raw pleasure that he assumed one could only get out of such menial tasks, which was why he had never experienced it in his old life. Soon he had ploughed through the pile of carrots and moved onto potatoes and then parsnips. Then he chopped everything up with meticulous precision, including all the things that could not be peeled.

He stood back and admired the work. Then he felt a stab of annoyance that soon, by dinnertime, all his efforts would be wasted on hungry stomachs. Perhaps this was why Mrs. Weasley did this every day, for a satisfaction that lasted mere hours.

"Great job," Mrs. Weasley commented casually as she looked them over, "right, now we're going to lay out everything for breakfast!"

Draco was most surprised to feel no resentment that she was including him in things - he felt, well, included. It was nice, he admitted to himself, even if it was house-elf work.

***

Harry sighed languidly as he descended the stairs for breakfast, making a loud creak with every footfall. Today, Sunday, was a rest day as it had always meant to be. Mrs. Weasley never gave them anything to do, so he could dedicate his day to playing chess and exploding snap with Ron and the twins, reading... possibly the book he had impulsively borrowed from Draco who had impulsively let him.

Unless Hermione roped him in to trying to knit for her elf hats again (he had attempted it once after a copious amount of nagging - he had ended up wasting a lot of her wool in the end when he had tangled it all in the needles. Even Hermione said that knitting without magic was rather difficult.)

This time he was one of the first in for breakfast - the only others there were Mrs. Weasley, who he could have betted galleons on for being present, Lupin, and less predictably Draco. For a second he took in the sight of the boy adjusting a knife every so slightly to the right before he sat down, as if this were a meal for his family's pure blood friends, not a group of people he often professed to hate.

Then he sat down as not to bring too much attention to himself. Malfoy shot him a look anyway, one of frank disapproval that he was used to. He didn't understand why he was receiving it on this particular occasion, though.

Mrs. Weasley let out an errant chuckle. "You're not in the right place."

He looked around his part of the table, non-nonplussed. Then he caught sight of the name next to his upturned glass. _Ronald Weasley_. He could have laughed himself, imagining the look on Ron's face when he read that, full name and everything. Ron hated his full name. Then he got up with a mumbled apology, carrying a bemused smile with him as he found the right place, quite far away from Ron's. It was strange - usually he sat next to Ron, though today he _had _been feeling a tad anxious about it - he and Ron hadn't spoken last night after Harry had been avoiding him.

He risked a curious glance at Malfoy, who was sitting nearly opposite him - had he done this? It certainly wasn't what Mrs. Weasley usually did, and the handwriting was that of elegant calligraphy - it screamed Malfoy. Also, the places seemed like Malfoy's machinations - Hermione and Ron were sat together, along with the twins and Ginny, the people who Malfoy liked least.

Up this end were the adults, who Harry surmised Malfoy found less troublesome - Malfoy was flanked by Mrs. Weasley, who had taken an odd shine to him and vice versa, and then Remus, who was still, always, at Grimmauld place nowadays. Harry himself was the anomaly of the situation, unless Malfoy was being surprisingly considerate and seating him away from people he had fallen out with. Was Malfoy even capable of such small kindnesses?

Malfoy caught his gaze and hastily looked away like Harry burned his eyes. Though it wasn't a blaze of disgust, it was - something else. Harry blinked and looked at his empty plate instead. This was getting more and more surreal.

"Good morning, Harry," Lupin addressed him with a smile, "did you sleep well?"

Ron and Hermione entered the room and things weren't normal with them either. Hermione gave him a lingering look of sadness, her eyebrows beginning to knit together, which made Harry's stomach shift uncomfortably with guilt. Ron didn't look at him at all, simply sat down in the nearest available chair, which Harry noted as the place belonging to Ginny.

A small cough sounded, causing all heads in the room to swing towards Malfoy, even Lupin's (Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen.) He raised an eyebrow at Ron.

"That's not your place, Weasley." He lifted his pale, aristocratic head and fixed his target with an even more trenchant stare, grey eyes icing over.

The reaction to this comment was painfully predictable and Harry grimaced in wait.

"What the hell are you saying, Malfoy?" Ron glared at him, "Am I too lowly even to sit at the table anymore? Is that what you're trying to say?"

Lupin jumped in just before Hermione or Draco could. "That isn't what he means - we all have places today. You'll find that yours is one to the right from where you are now." He fixed Ron with a placating smile that seemed to quell his anger. Draco watched smugly as Ron shifted places - his ambiguous comment had worked and he hadn't received any trouble for it. Harry could have scoffed at his earlier thoughts - Malfoy didn't have a kind bone in his skinny little body!

Ron scowled again at his full name in such ostentatious writing, but said nothing more. Hermione warily slid into the seat next to his, still looking occasionally at Harry who was conveniently looking away, watching Lupin reading the _Daily Prophet_. The cover held images that now Harry knew well - the terrifyingly insane ones of the more recently escaped Death Eaters, Bellatrix acting as centrefold. Obviously the _Prophet_ was having a slow news day for once. Or perhaps they were saving the more grisly snippets of war news to the inner pages.

He found his eyes again being drawn to Malfoy, who was also eyeing the newspaper with an expression Harry had never seen on him wear before - apprehension. He seemed genuinely nervous about something to do with the Death Eaters, which at first struck Harry as strange - he was the son of one after all. Then he brought himself back to reality: Draco was living in Number. 12 with the Order now, so he must have upset the Death Eaters somehow. Or his father had. Either way, it was logical that he feared them now if he was hanging around with people Voldemort considered to be deadly enemies.

He wished he could discuss it with Hermione, for her logical explanations that always sorted things out, but that was too risky an option. He would have to keep his burning curiosity to himself for now, because he didn't feel like asking Malfoy again.

As Ginny and the twins flooded in, pausing only to find their seats, and Mrs. Weasley instructed them to dig in did Harry stop thinking about it. He found the sight of food even more appetising than it had the night before, with a smile that extended right to his heart and stomach in a warm glow that lit the cold caverns of his insides. Each bite seemed to fill him, not just physically, and it was intensely gratifying.

Sirius still occupied a void inside him, one that would never ever close completely, but day-by-day he admitted that it was becoming more bearable. Day-by-day.

***

After breakfast had been eaten, Draco silently pronounced it a success - even if the group had been much more quiet than usual, he accepted it as due to morning sluggishness and enjoyed it whilst it lasted. There really was nothing like the restrained breakfasts at Malfoy Manor with mother and father, but this would have to do for now.

In any case, this household seemed to have its own charm buried deep, deep down that Draco decided to accept the existence of - it mostly resided in the talents of Mrs. Weasley, who strived to turn a nightmare house into a home. She had an air of authority that begrudgingly reminded him of his own, far more beautiful mother, but she also possessed a warm kindness that he had always secretly craved from his mother, but which he had never really received as a child.

He had always seen the looks she gave him, ones of fervent love that she had to hold back, but it always hurt that she held it back just because his father had instructed her to. Would one embrace really have been too much of a risk? He carefully contained the unreasonable childhood resentment that began to try and escape from the place he had long ago locked it up - he had been far too emotional of late as it was. Her last look at him, at the beast he was now, would be enough, would be the last look he would probably ever get from her until his dying day.

The beast protested, _feel what you want to feel_, but he gave it an internal yank at the scruff to quieten it down.

_If there's one rule you learn whilst living in my body, it's that no irrational feelings can reside here. They're too perilous._

He looked up when somebody else entered the room - Professor Snape. Draco just about stopped himself from leaping up and running to his side. Snape fixed him with a look that Draco couldn't read, but said nothing. Behind him there seemed to be other people who emerged to be the tall serious man, the one who looked like a Basset hound, the clumsy Tonks girl who tripped on the way in, someone who looked like another Weasley but far more stylish than the other brothers, a blonde witch next to him, two more witches and a wizard that he did not recognize and Dumbledore, a tall presence behind all of them who also looked at Draco with a soft smile. Draco looked away, not knowing how to react.

Lupin smiled at them all on their entry and approached the Tonks girl with an obvious shyness that would have made Draco scoff, if he hadn't been otherwise occupied. Mrs. Weasley gave all the younger occupants of the room a contrasting stare that clearly showed she was about to dole out orders.

"Come on, the Order's having a meeting, clear out." She said to Potter, Granger and assorted Weasley children. She turned to Draco, "I'm sorry, but that means you too - you're too young to join the order as it is." Draco shrugged and left with one last look at his Godfather, who he hoped would be staying for a while _after _this pesky meeting.

He was left in the hall with all the other under age people, most of which gave him a sour look now Mrs. Weasley wasn't about. Draco felt a little bit vulnerable - he was outnumbered.

"Come on," said the main Weasel with a narrow-eyed glare at Draco, "let's go to me and Harry's room." He and the other redheads bounded off with ease, Granger behind them shortly after with one last look at Potter. Potter however, stayed where he was despite Ron's look back at him. Looks could say more than words, Draco observed.

Potter was looking at him now and he stared back, not willing to look away and show any weakness. Potter shifted and blinked, opened his mouth to say something. Draco searched through his head for possible retorts.

"Um - do you want that book back yet?" He asked, catching Draco off guard - why was he continuing to be so civil, even when his friends weren't?

"N-no, it's fine," Draco said as if on auto-cue, "Keep it until you've finished it. I have other books to read." Embarrassingly, he sounded as breathless as a first year girl with a crush. He did _not_ have a crush! The wolf growled in amusement and he wished he could kick it, hard.

Harry smiled at him, _smiled_ in that stupid way he did, and Draco's heart lurched strangely. "Thanks. Well, I guess I'll - I'll see you later." He bounded up the stairs with as much grace as a pack of gold-hungry Nifflers.

Draco experienced the strange sensation that someone was slowly peeling back his skin and spreading a viscous potion there, one that made the skin on his face and neck heat up unbearably in a flush. He couldn't decide whether it was, paired with his racing heart, a pleasant sensation or not.

He almost felt as if he was looking forward to the full moon then - after that he could rein in his ridiculous feelings and eradicate them, for they could not continue to exist.

* * *

**A/N: Let's just call this a reflection chapter a.k.a complete filler chapter :) I just couldn't think of plot for this one! Though this one is personally inspired - I too feel a sense of fulfilment when peeling carrots.**

**A huge thanks to Merthurtilidie (Nyes, I plan to put Ron to future use...), xo i love emmett xo, Imperial Mint (an interesting point, I may put it to further use but I can be a bit scatterbrained with remembering to put in ideas...), Pinkbismuth (I'll try to update again soon! XD), F4LL3N-1NT0-0BL1V10N (no, thank YOU! :D), miss quirky bookworm (Harry's persistent as a... erm... persistent Hippogriff XD) and jewle69 (here's an update for you! I think it was quite quick... :D) Whoo, I love your comments! :)**

**Next time on PW: Hang on, let me think of something first! :P**


	11. Knowing

_Knowing_

It was not until that evening that Ron talked to Harry again. Whether it was from anger, wariness or plain stubbornness Harry did not know, but he was immensely relieved when the wall of ice between them cracked down the middle and broke into pieces and suddenly they were okay again.

"I haven't played against you at chess today, Harry," Ron smiled at him, "d'you think you'll finally win one if we do?"

Harry smiled back. "I suppose it's worth a try."

They sat together in amicable silence, since conversation had never been a big deal between them anyway, pouring all their concentration into the game. That's why neither of them noticed when Hermione entered the room, a book resting in one hand against her hip, and sat down on a bed, watching them with a warm little smile of her own. It was as if everything was normal again - Harry looked and sounded alive again, occasionally laughing when he deployed a move that Ron didn't expect. He even exclaimed when he eventually lost.

"Not today, mate, not today!" Ron laughed but was cut off when a pillow landed haphazardly on his head. "Oi, you sore loser!"

Hermione cleared her throat before a pillow war could erupt - she had never been very good at them. Both boys looked at her, blinking, not having noticed her until then.

"Blimey, Hermione, are you sure you're not a trained Auror?" Ron asked, a pillow hanging in his hands and his mouth hanging open slightly. "I didn't even hear you come in." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I just thought we could do some of our summer assignments, seeming as you haven't even looked at yours yet-" yet Ron was in too much of a raucous mood, unfortunately.

"No way, we have weeks to do that stuff! I'm going to find Fred and George and ask about their new products..." without further ado he ran out of the door before Hermione could lasso him with a dose of school-related guilt. Harry wasn't as bothered - Hermione was too careful around him nowadays to ask much of him. Although, he realized with trepidation, she might try to talk to him again...

"How do you think you'll do in your O.W.L results?" She asked instead, sliding off the bed gracefully and onto the floor, on a level with him. This was the Hermione he knew and loved, the perfect counterbalance to the carefree, playful Ron with her contemplations of their future and her organized, caring nature.

He grimaced - it wasn't like he wanted to think about results, after all, but it was better than talking about what she had tried to bring up the day before. And her talking to him now, as well as Ron, was far better than nothing.

"I think I'll do okay, I mean, I only really messed up History of Magic... not that I'll put myself through another two years of that even if I get an Outstanding." They bother laughed.

"I wouldn't either." Hermione acquiesced, scrunching up her nose slightly and shaking her head, and Harry gasped in imitation shock.

"Seriously, you're going to drop a subject? I thought you were going to do everything for N.E.W.T level Hermione, you're not meeting my expectations..." he stopped when Hermione lightly punched him on the shoulder.

"I think I learnt not to do that in third year, thanks." She gave him a jokingly reproachful look and Harry thought back to their confusing, risky incident with the Time Turner. Trying desperately to drag a hippogriff into the forest... narrowly avoiding a transformed Professor Lupin... watching Sirius...

Watching Sirius escape on Buckbeak, flying off into the night sky.

_Oh god, why does every memory have to carry so much pain?_

Hermione's presence went from comforting to unbearable in a matter of moments and he knew she could sense it, her eyes widening, her brain frantically searching for what she had said or done wrong. It saddened him that he had disappointed her so, but things were how they were - currently his main concern was going somewhere completely alone, away from other people and their concern and questions.

"I'm just going downstairs," he said hurriedly and left the room, his ears straining to hear her following footsteps that never came. He careened down the stairs, the walls of the house becoming even darker as night time approached, looking as if he leaned on them he would simply fall through into oblivion. It was tempting, but he carried on, reaching ground floor and reaching the nearest door - the study, which nobody often entered. He opened it quietly still, just in case...

There were people inside. He held the door open by a crack, not knowing whether to close it again or leave it how it was. Instead he hovered in indecision, so started to pick up the conversation as it was commencing inside.

***

He was cornered in the study, had been so for about three minutes. So quickly had a place he usually found comforting, with its squashy sofa and old dusty books, turned into a wild place of feral emotion all targeted at him from the Weasel, who it seemed had more than a few things to say about Draco being at Grimmauld Place at all, and even more on their long running personal relationship of mutual dislike and anger.

"- posh little snot bag, you think you belong here? Well you don't, end of story, no matter how much pity my mum and the other adults have for you. We all pity you, you nasty little-"

_Yeah, yeah, I've heard this all before. You're beginning to repeat yourself. _Draco said nothing aloud - it was risky, seeming as the Weasel knew his secret and would be more liable to blurt it out if Draco further angered him. It was still tempting, but wouldn't bode well in the long run. He would simply sit and stare into space, acting as if he was ignoring Weasley, as he mostly was. The hateful words just flowed over his ears like warm water. Even the wolf yawned.

"- think everyone cares about you when everyone hates you really!"

He could have sworn he'd already heard that too, not just now from Weasley, but from Gryffindors before him. It all turned into a meaningless buzz.

Weasley, noticing the lack of interest, changing tact with a determined scowl.

"You've got nothing now, you realise that? Your nasty Death Eater parents dumped you as quickly as they could, your bastard father and your bitch of a mother, all because you're a-"

"-Ron?"

"- Werewolf."

The room froze completely, as if by a spell that could stop time whenever it felt like it. Draco stared at Ron's guilty, mortified face, which was aimed towards the other recent occupant of the room who he desperately wished not to be there, more than anybody else in the house who could have turned up.

Ron broke the spell by hurriedly leaving the room, pushing past the person who definitely didn't exist. Who definitely wasn't walking over to him. Who definitely wasn't sitting next to him and sinking into the sofa, casting him sideways glances.

Neither spoke for an uncomfortable, stretched while, not wanting to confirm what had just been said out of Weasley's big mouth and could not be unheard. That is until Potter cleared his throat.

"Yes, I know you heard what you heard," Draco jumped in first, scared and blundering, "I'm one of those disgusting beasts. Like Lupin. Like Greyback. So go ahead and laugh, just go ahead." He felt like his heart was about to burst as he leaned forward and clasped his hands to stop them from shaking. This wasn't how it was supposed to be at all - he didn't understand why, but it just wasn't.

"Why would I?" Potter asked, the frown of confusion audible in his voice. Draco sneered, mostly at himself.

"Draco Malfoy, heir to a rich family, used to getting everything _accioed_ to him with a flick of a silver wand, your nemesis - now a penniless werewolf. Haven't you waited for something like this?"

"You may have been all of those things," Potter answered gruffly, "but that doesn't mean I'd wish something like that on you. On anybody. I'm not like you, I don't wish for people's downfalls."

Draco smiled, ignoring the wetness in his eyes. "Of course you don't. You're Harry Potter."

Potter didn't seem to understand that he hadn't meant it as an insult. He left without another word; his tensed shoulders of strained patience were the last thing Draco saw before the door closed with a light slam.

Draco wished the sofa would just give in to its obvious urges and swallow him up completely.

***

In a way it was a relief, finally knowing exactly why Draco Malfoy had turned up on the doorstep of the Order headquarters and now the house that belonged to Harry, only a day after he had arrived himself.

In other ways it was confusing, terrifying, increasingly frustrating because of the numerous new questions he now wanted to ask - Why was Malfoy a werewolf? Who made him that way? What was he, a person prized by his elders on the pureness of his blood, going to do with his life now? Why did _Ron_ know about it?

One question on his conscience had been far simpler than the ones now flapping around like his brain golden snitches, bashing against his skull over and over again but impossible to catch.

Malfoy's reaction had been shocking too - never before had Harry seen him so utterly humiliated and devastated, the moment that the word "werewolf" escaped Ron's mouth and took deep root in Harry's ear. He would never forget the delicate twists of his expression, the way his lips pursed, the way his grey eyes widened as they glossed over, not willing to accept the truth spoken so harshly.

Harry would have looked the same if a werewolf had bitten him, but permanently - as he had said to Malfoy, it was not a fate he would wish on anybody.

Further empathy began to flood through him as he thought of the entire ordeal - Malfoy had been bitten savagely by a werewolf, most likely Voldemort's own dog, Greyback, if Voldemort had been involved, and Greyback had no mercy for any of his victims. And Lupin had once described to him the pain of a first transformation - excruciating, and it only got a bit more bearable with Wolfsbane and experience. That wouldn't be enjoyable either, to put it lightly.

Overwhelmed by these thoughts, or more vivid feelings with images attached, Harry made a promise to himself and the world. He would put aside his personal differences towards Malfoy and try, in any way he could, to help him through the ordeal.

A quiet voice inside him hoped that helping someone else would distract him from the helplessness that he constantly felt... it was worth a try.

To currently distract himself, he curled up in bed with the Dragons book, as if a visual complement to his decision, even though it wasn't that late, absent-mindedly stroking the dragon on the cover with his thumb, already helping something achieve happiness. He wondered if he could be as helpful towards Mal_-Draco._ Draco was his name, so that's what he'd call him from now on.

* * *

**A/N: Two updates over two consecutive days - aren't I nice?! Though this one is quite short... but there's actual plot! Woah!**

**Lots of e-hugs to the reviewers of Chapter 10: Merthurtilidie (lurve is in the air... or is it?!) Yana5 (Yeah, I think he should too, but he's just too clueless) Imperial Mint (carrots are always yummy :) especially when Draco peels them!) xo i love emmett xo, egoXlockheart (thank you for being so patient! I'm sorry I'm so slow...) and SkyeEyesSparkle7135 (I'm so glad you think I'm getting the Draco-Harry right! I always worry about that... because I love the pairing so much I'm always tempted to rush them into it :P) Such quick reviews, thank you all so much!  
**

**I apologize for Ron being a jerk but, realistically, Draco sort of had it coming after all the years of verbal abuse towards Ronniekins... let's call this his redemption, eh?**


	12. Feeling

_Feeling_

Progress with Draco was slow. Mostly because Harry was so busy over the next few days with laborious housework and attempting some of his summer assignments (under Hermione's strict watch) that he had no time to even try to help. He felt bad about it - they hadn't even spoken since he had walked out of the study - and he felt small judders in his stomach when he wondered if Draco thought he was being purposefully avoided. It was silly, paranoid even, but that was just how he felt.

To be feeling something new was also refreshing - it was something else to concentrate on - so he cultivated the judders' seeds into a solid shoots of concern and let them grow. It was perhaps not the best thing to indulge in, he knew that, but it was something at least, and less monotonous than house or homework.

Six days later and he felt it had been long enough - he was even beginning to suspect that Draco was avoiding him for some reason. It was quite late in the evening, far after dinner had finished, and nearly everyone was in the main lounge that served as a gathering place of ample size for the numerous residents of the house. It was still a bit rough and sinister around the edges, but with so many cheery people it lit up from the inside like a lamp aflame and was a very pleasant place to be.

He almost missed it now, dithering on the cold, darkened landing. _Damn it all, I can't even use lumos... _he sighed silently, also missing the use of his wand. He shouldn't have been wishing his life away, but seventeen was only one year older than he was now...

He shook his head lightly, pulling himself back to the present. His hand was half raised, fisted and ready to knock against the door that he knew Draco was hiding behind - hiding from Ron, Harry himself, anyone else who knew, if Harry's guesses were correct. Ron had not said a word to Draco since Harry had overheard them arguing, Harry keeping him in check with stern glances. He had done enough damage as it was - Draco had always been a git to them, Harry agreed with that, but he thought Ron was a more compassionate person than that.

With an intake of breath, he knocked, the sounds very loud compared to the silence around him and very distant laughter in the background. From inside he could hear slight movement and craned his head slightly to hear better.

That was a mistake - suddenly the door opened, taking with it a disorientating rush of air, and his face was inches apart from Draco's. He righted himself hastily after a second of seeing Draco closer than was humanly comfortable. Damn it, I'm screwing things up again already...

He swallowed and then remembered the weight of the book in his hands.

"I've read it all now - sorry it took so long." He held it out and Draco hastily reached out to take it with one long-fingered hand. Their fingertips brushed lightly and Draco pulled back as if he had been shocked. Harry had felt a bit of electricity himself, whatever that had been all about.

They lapsed into momentary silence and Harry cleared his throat. "It was interesting."

"Yes," Draco agreed, the first word Harry had heard him speak in a while, "I'm glad you liked it."

Harry expected him to mumble an eloquent excuse and close the door then, what with the caged look of panic that was now invading his eyes, but it stayed open. Draco stepped away, holding the book protectively to his torso with one arm, and an invisible wall went up in his face, protecting him.

"Come in if you want," the comment even had a slightly mordant ring to it, Harry noted with a sense of relief - so Draco hadn't lost all of his self-confidence. He entered the room and looked around; nothing had changed. It was so clean it looked hardly lived in, quiet unlike Harry and Ron's messy abode.

It wasn't surprising; Harry knew from previous experience of Draco about how much of a neatness obsession he had, it showed in every corner of his life. His appearance, his carefully pressed clothes, his meticulously controlled expressions, his Potions workbench...

He looked back to Draco, who was now sitting on his bed, his hands holding one another nervously. Harry felt a pang of guilt; it was a very similar image to how he had left the boy sitting days earlier in the study. His feeling of concern again evoked, it all spilt out.

"Look, I apologize for leaving so abruptly the other day. For not really talking to you since. It was - stupid of me." He thought that Draco would have liked that last self-deprecating part.

"It was," Draco stated in return, but with none of the usual gleeful amusement on his face. Harry sat down on the opposite side of the bed so that they didn't have to face one another. He still had questions to ask.

"So... you're really a werewolf?"

"Yes," the answer seemed strained, but not overly hostile, so Harry carried on with questions he hoped could be answered simply.

"Was it Greyback?" That had been a prominent one - if it was then it was a sure thing that Voldemort was behind all of this.

"... It was."

"Did it... did it hurt?"

Draco gave a wisp of what could be construed as a laugh. "Of course. Greyback isn't very refined." The humour there, if there was any, was deeply bitter. Harry gave a sympathetic grimace, even though Draco couldn't see it.

"I really wouldn't wish ever that on you."

"That's a small consolation." Draco's voice sounded flat and dead. It was more worrying than his anger, his bitterness, his fear. To Harry it sounded like the void.

"I know," Harry began to babble, "it's nothing but I-"

He didn't even know how to word it in the right way. _I feel sorry for you?_ Definitely not. _I want to help you? _Still too risky, it could still damage Draco's pride. He settled for something more generic and ambiguous.

"If there's anything I can do to help...?" He resisted the urge to turn around.

"I'm sure I'll think of something," came a reply after an ample pause. The answer was more positive than what Harry had expected, yet still a cause for concern. What if something was doing Draco's summer assignments? (Though why he'd ask Harry to do it was a wonder.) Insulting Ron five times a day? Being a human punch bag?

"Okay," he said cautiously and the air seemed to thicken. _What the heck do I say now? I'm not used to having to be civil around him. For that matter, why isn't he just making me leave yet? It's no secret that he detests me, my company included._

"Actually," Draco cut into his thoughts, "there is one thing."

Harry braced himself. "Yes?"

"Can you stay here with me some evenings?" The question was simple and left unexplained, though Harry could hazard a guess to it. Draco was _lonely_ in this big house of people he barely even knew, transformed from his ideal life to this with one bite. Harry could understand it well - he felt exactly the same way trapped in a house with the Dursleys, as he had done for the first week of the summer followed by almost a week at Grimmauld Place, which was a haven in comparison. Though compared to Malfoy Manor he was guessing it wasn't.

"Of course," he agreed, giving into temptation and turning around this time. He found himself face to face again. Grey eyes studied him, this time not backing away.

Something somewhere in the room changed, shifted in meaning, but he didn't know what it was or what it was even trying to do. His breath hitched slightly in his throat, which felt painlessly swollen, and now the electricity that had stayed on his fingertips was moving through his body, a powerful charge that made him want to flatten his hair in case it was standing on end (well, more than usual.)

"Are you all right?" he seemed to hear Draco ask; yet he was looking exactly how Harry was feeling - electrified. Harry didn't know how to describe the feeling, it was like trying to pin a butterfly by the wing to a wall, but whatever it was it felt _good_. Wrong, his brain seemed to pester him, but good, his heart replied.

"I'm fine," he replied, surprised he could even form coherent words. The feeling was becoming less elusive now; he could almost name it, yet somewhere in his brain now alarm bells started to go off. _This isn't right, what are you doing?_

_I'm leaning forward, that's what I'm doing._

_No, that's definitely wrong. Stop it now!_

_But somehow it feels right..._

_You idiot! What the hell will Draco think of what you're doing? Have you thought about that?_

His heart, his stupid illogical heart, lost the argument and he leaned back again, taking in a deep breath. Draco didn't move from where he was sitting, transfixed. _Probably by disgust_, Harry thought, _because I've just been acting like a lunatic._

"Potter," Draco broke a silence that had been reigning supreme for a few minutes, "I'm going to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," Harry replied quickly and stood up. They looked at each other one more time, the strange feeling of electric butterflies in his stomach threatening to return, and then he left with a hasty goodnight.

It seemed that he didn't quite understand what he was getting into, but he knew that somehow it was right - he was helping someone after all. That was the main thing, right?

_Right?_

***

Ron Weasley was brushing his teeth. After a few stubborn minutes of getting them spotlessly clean (an interesting fact about Ron, he had always had a thing about morning breath so tried diligently to battle it - an anomalous habit of his) he quickly washed his face, managing to splash an interesting pattern of water up the mirror, and spent a few seconds looking at himself - the few seconds that it was worth the bother, really, looking into bog-standard blue eyes and a freckly visage.

Then, already clad in pyjamas because it was now getting quite late, he padded into the bedroom, making sure to avoid the splinters in the floorboards for his poor feet, and was about to fling back the bed covers and dive in when he heard voices outside. One of them was definitely Harry's.

Curiosity ignited, he opened the door a crack and peered out. Probably not the best plan of action, it certainly looked like he was eavesdropping, but he comforted himself by thinking that he was looking out for his friend. He was, really - the ferret could have been about.

Malfoy's door was open a crack - he deduced this from the stripe of light that was cast through it onto the landing. He could then hear Malfoy's voice too, quiet and for once not completely full of scorn, oddly enough. Perhaps he had made the drastic mistake of thinking Snape's voice to be Harry's?

No, surely enough, that was Harry. He listened on, hoping to hear Harry give the subdued Malfoy the earful he deserved!

"Potter," he distantly heard Malfoy say, his voice now more strong, "I'm going to bed now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," Harry replied, not as angry sounding as Ron would have liked, "Goodnight."

_I'll see you tomorrow? Okay? GOOD NIGHT? What the bloody hell?!_

He wondered fiercely what Harry was doing there, being all civil and friendly to Malfoy, Malfoy, the boy who had given he and his friends hell for years. What was the world coming to?

He betted that Harry was feeling sorry for Malfoy who, because of the nasty people he associated with, had been turned into a werewolf. Not a nice werewolf like Lupin, no, Ron was sure that he would be just as bad as Greyback. Harry though, with his innocent need to help people, perhaps couldn't see it. But why was Harry not seeing that Malfoy was still the scum-bag he had always been, bitten or not?

Malfoy must have been tricking him, manipulating him somehow, and Ron would find out how before it was too late and Malfoy did something to hurt Harry.

The plan formed in his head quickly - he wouldn't tell Harry, given how emotionally unstable his friend had been lately as it was over the death of his Godfather. (Another reason why Harry should stay away from Malfoy - he was more easily breakable in that kind of state!) No, he would so some sleuthing and keep an eye on those two to work out exactly what Malfoy was going to try and do (capture Harry to get back on his Lord's good side? The evil git!)

He just couldn't let that happen to his best friend, not ever.

* * *

**A/N: I feel like I'm on a bit of a roll with this now! (and I hope I didn't just jinx it!)**

** Just some notes on little things I've changed to suit the story (artistic license, eh?) : as you may have guessed, there's no troubles about ownership of Grimmauld Place after Sirius' death in my version (I slightly changed his personality to be more organised with documents, so it's definitely in Harry's ownership now.) **

**Also, for purposes that will be explained in further plot Draco's birthday is now in August instead of June. (I hope that doesn't spoil too much!) **

**Also (this took me so long to properly work out, I swear my brain is stupid) at this point in time Harry and Draco are both fifteen, because everyone in Harry's year turns 16 during during OotP but Harry and Draco are both born in the summer so will turn sixteen that summer. Just to clear that up finally! XD it boggled my mind for some reason. Sorry if I've put that they're fourteen somewhere... I can't seem to relocate it. [/rant.]  
**

**Many chocolate frogs to Imperial Mint, Merthurtilidie (Yep, definite set up for slash as you can see in this chapter!), Sen2TOS9 (cheers for the review!), xo i love emmett xo, KoiinuNe, Yana5 and miss quirky bookworm! You're all brilliant! :D**


	13. Discussing

_Discussing_

_Only two days until full moon._ The words that had been mocking him all night, in consciousness or in fevered dreams, mocked him once again as he woke. He pushed the malicious voice aside - it was no good thinking about it until he really, really had to.

***

"You know," Mrs. Weasley's voice sang across the burbling pans, metal lids clanking, and slick sounds of vegetables being relieved of their skins, "I think you're ready to move on up a level, Draco. Cooking isn't just peeling."

Draco smiled wryly at the way she phrased it - it was like he was the sole employee of her culinary enterprise and was getting a promotion. He could not deny the sense of importance that being her cookery companion in the mornings brought - he would bet galleons that she wouldn't be as enthused by teaching any of her own sons to cook. They were all animals compared to the impeccably mannered, polite Draco, whose immaculate appearance and agile way of carrying himself seemed to appeal to her for she was not used to a boy of such calibre.

"What to, Mrs. Weasley?" He asked, keeping his voice pleasant instead of gloating. Even in this house, he found, there were certain appearances to be kept, certain types of people he had to be. To Mrs. Weasley he was polite and relatively compliant; to the Weasel he had to be neutrally scathing so his secret had a slimmer chance of being revealed to _more_ people; to Lupin he had to keep a cold distance, close himself off even further, to resist revealing weakness; to the other adults he had to be emotionless, silently strong-willed so they didn't pity him; the other children he tended to ignore, he could feel the unchangeable disapproval radiating from them.

To Potter, well, he wasn't so sure. This was one person he had not quite given a correct personality and categorized - to use a cliché, Potter was full of surprises, which wasn't something Draco was particularly comfortable with. Every box he tried to fit Potter in he seemed to quickly fight himself out of.

"Let's see - do you know how to boil an egg?"

Draco raised an amused eyebrow. "Let's just assume, as always, that I know nothing of the culinary arts, Mrs. Weasley."

She gave a chuckle, "I suppose so. I still find it hard to grasp - knowing how to cook is fending for yourself! Which from now on you're going to need to know how to do."

He avoided her look of what seemed suspiciously like caring and kindness - it was too foreign, too open, too out there. It was embarrassing and somewhat painful to see for a boy so used to playing cloak and wand with expressions.

"Right, I'll teach you how to boil first, then scramble, then fry, oh and then poaching, that's the trickiest one..." She began to ramble a bit, sensing his discomfort, and within her muttered words Draco had time to become completely and playfully reserved again, which made everything slot back into place.

Still, he only just managed not to drop the first egg, small and smooth in his quivering hand, onto the floor and create a mess rather like the one he felt inside of himself - no matter how hard he tried to make sense of this new life, categorize everything and file it away so it was easier to deal with, his new, coursing emotions and the wolf, the _hideous_ wolf, would somehow mess it all up again. It was tiring, to say the least.

***

The antagonism from the Weasel did not even temporarily relent, which Draco should not have been as surprised about as he felt. He would have given even the Weasel the credit to back off for a while and lick his wounds, seeming as his righteous best friend had caught him whispering sweet nothings of loathing to the person Potter had started to try and reach out to.

This was troubling in itself - what had possessed Potter to drop in on him like that the other day? He had ideas; it was probably Potter's natural instinct to try and help everything that moved and breathed kicking in - even toward someone like Draco who had been nothing but a hindrance to his life (Draco had made sure of that.)

What made it even more troubling, so troubling that it was almost unbearable to think about, was the fact that Draco almost found himself wanting to accept the help that Potter offered - no matter how little it would do for him in the long run (even the supposedly powerful Chosen One - yes, Draco had heard about that in the papers - could not cure people of lycanthropy, as far as he knew.) There was just something - _yes, just spit it out_ - comforting about Potter's presence.

There, he had said it. He liked Potter being around. He did. Of course, he still attributed it to the freak attraction he felt for the very same person (for he wasn't going to deny that to himself either, anymore, if he was ever going to sort all this out) but it was disturbing in itself that he wanted Potter there.

That was why he had made the completely rash, weak, impromptu decision of asking Potter to visit him some evenings, of all things. It was like they were companions or something. It was a battering to his pride from all sides - not to begin mentioning the mental slaps he kept on having to give the wolf to make it stop gloating with victory howls - but he still did it, something completely illogical to the normal him.

_Well, I'm not exactly my normal self anymore, so maybe these weird reactions are just part of the lycanthropy package._

It almost made him want to laugh - of all the people he could have developed an attraction to, even just in this house, why Potter? Why not, say, one of the people he had previously hated slightly less?

For once he had an answer - it did make sense, in a completely ridiculous way given the context, because he and Potter had always had a heated kind of relationship. They had always been rivals, whether on the Quidditch pitch or not, and had participated in many passionate arguments in the past. And, to use yet another of the clichés he so detested, there was a thin line between love and hate.

Anyway, back to the present. Draco had been innocently walking up the stairs, planning to relax in his room for a while after what had been a small banquet of a lunch, when the Weasel had appeared as if out of nowhere and approached him. How disconcerting.

"I know what you're up to." He said, his eyes narrowed, and Draco scoffed.

"Pray tell, what nefarious activities am I said to be engaging in now? I didn't think walking up the stairs was a crime, Weasley." He was personally admiring this sentence as a triumph in detached humour, but other, less interesting things distracted the Weasel.

"Don't avoid the subject - what do you want from Harry?"

He took back his last words - this was getting more interesting. Yet it did not seem as serious a question as the tone in which the Weasel had hissed it, given the answer a wayward little voice in his head had supplied - _Well, I want many things from Potter, but I'm sure you wouldn't want to know the details..._

"Well?" The Weasel prompted, crossing his arms in a disapproving way that for a moment reminded Draco of the boy's mother, which heightened his sense of amusement toward the proceedings.

"I assure you that I only have neutral intentions towards Potter, Weasley, so rest your little mind at ease." He made to pass the Weasel coldly, perhaps bashing his ugly shoulder lightly for effect, but the brute decided to grab him first by the shirtfront.

"Resorting to violence again?" Draco asked, ignoring his heart that was now thumping out warning signals. "I'm disappointed in your lack of finesse."

The Weasel seemed even angrier now, a new record even for a person of his high rage meter. "If you hurt Harry in any way you will pay for it. He's going through enough as it is, he doesn't need your crap, okay?"

Draco listened with clear interest now - _he's going through enough of what as it is?_ He was tempted to ask but a voice interrupted them from the bottom of the stairs.

"Ron?" It was Granger, peering around the banisters with her big, hideous nose. "What are you doing?" She didn't sound happy at all, but that wasn't a big difference to how she was usually.

Weasley let go of him and Draco found himself able to breathe properly again. He heard another voice and turned around.

"What's going on?" It was Potter, who didn't look overjoyed either. _Oh great, let's invite the whole street over to witness this complete farce._

By this time Granger had tramped up the stairs and was now looking between he and the Weasel suspiciously. Weasley was being extremely unhelpful, gazing steadfastly at the wall, so Draco supplied a reluctant answer.

"Weasley and I were just having a friendly discussion." He answered, staring at her to see if she'd challenge that. The idiot did and everything.

"It didn't look, or sound, like that to me." She said, looking like a schoolteacher who was about to lecture two disobedient students. "Look, you two are going to have to be civil to one another if you're going to live in the same house."

It felt strange, having a Mudblood trying to sort out an argument between two superior pure bloods that was deep and longstanding between generations. It was stranger still that she seemed to be quite a good diplomat for the occasion.

"In fact," she carried on, "Harry and I were just talking about it earlier and we've agreed to try and put our own differences aside for harmony's sake," she turned her steely look to Draco, "that is if you will do the same."

Draco shrugged and glanced at Potter who had now joined them on the landing. Potter was also looking stern, the teacher's assistant, and Draco was feeling more and more like a little child. He tried to turn the sullen shrug into something more tactful, not wishing to be outshone by the Gryffindors (the Weasel not included.)

"I suppose that a temporary truce would be amicable for all sides." He concluded and Hermione nodded in agreement. The Weasel looked like he was about to explode.

"I'm glad you think so," she said, "so what was really going on here?"

"He's trying to get to Harry," Weasley burst out, topping it off with a melodramatic finger point, "He's trying to act like he's his friend so that he can hurt him. I just know it." He finished by raising his head defensively.

Granger passed a look around all of them, trying to work out the subtle workings of the relationships behind these accusations. She seemed to make some sort of decision.

"Ron," she said in a placating tone that seemed to overpower him, "you can't assume that Malfoy is going to do something horrible to Harry just because Harry's trying to be civil and bury the hatchet on an old rivalry."

_Is he really now? No wonder he's being less hostile than before._

"You should be supporting your friend in doing something that's right, not going around accusing people of things you have no evidence for." Weasley looked suitably mollified. She turned to Draco, who hadn't quite wiped the smirk off his face yet. _Uh oh..._

"And Draco," she addressed him and he tried not to bristle at being referred to by first name, "don't mock Ron and make things worse, it's rather immature." Draco blinked - he hadn't been expecting that. "If you really want the past to remain past, then be civil."

Civil seemed to be the word of the day and, though he didn't completely agree with it internally, he nodded in tacit understanding. He tried to ignore Potter's smile, but could not help but let his eyes wander back over to it.

Hermione had done her work - putting away her businesswoman attitude, she gave them all a glowing smile, even Draco, and then ambled off to her room. Weasley stomped off too, evidently not happy about the truce either since he had nothing to gain from it, and shut the door to his room rather more loudly than was needed.

Draco was not as disheartened, for he had something to gain from the proceedings, even if it was Potter's infuriating smile and its power to make him feel like smiling too.

"So, um," Potter glanced at him before his gaze skittered away again in what could have been labelled shyness, though Draco was never sure with Potter anymore, "I'll, erm, see you later?"

He swore the boy was getting more incoherent every day, and he ignored the wolf's remark that it was really rather... charming. _Stupid, pathetic, gormless_, he shot back to reassure himself. He wouldn't let a feeling take him over.

"If you wish." He replied airily, making a slow escape to his room to show it was no such thing. He hoped that Potter would, but couldn't broadcast it to the idiot in case he got ideas. He couldn't have Potter getting ideas - he would surely die of the embarrassment.

***

Harry stood helplessly and watched him go. He swore he was sounding more and more stupid around Draco as the days went by, though he had no idea why. He was just glad that they seemed to be forming a real truce, not just the flimsy one that Hermione had made them agree to in hopes of stopping Ron and Draco from having too many fights, for otherwise Draco would probably still be sending him scathing remarks and he wouldn't be able to think of a cutting reply. That's a common problem you suffer from if your brain turns into a pile of melted chocolate frogs whenever you're around somebody.

Harry just hoped that, whatever it was, it would stop soon and preferably before he worked out what it all meant.

With feelings of happiness and absolute dread fighting each other in his chest, accompanying thoughts of visiting Draco later on, he trudged into his room, hoping that Ron wouldn't be too upset with him - what had that all been about anyway?

Ron did look rather sulky, lying on his bed, so Harry decided to do something they rarely did and just have it out with one another.

"Ron, what's this about Draco trying to hurt me?"

"There you go again," Ron replied moodily, "Draco this and Draco that. He's _Malfoy_."

Harry bit his lip - had he really been talking about Draco that much? He certainly couldn't remember doing so... but then again...

"I know, it's just, we thought that with the truce and everything it would be more polite to use first names." Harry explained, trying to ignore the rising heat coming up from his neck to his face.

"Well he'll always be Malfoy to me," Ron replied, sitting up on the bed and looking at Harry levelly now, "I don't trust him and I don't think you should either."

"I wouldn't have trusted him before, Ron, you know that," Harry replied, "but he's sort of... different now, in ways. I mean, yeah, he's still a bit of a snob and he can be a git, but it's lessened now. I think it's because he's been turned into a werewolf - above everything else, that must have been a big knock to his ego."

Ron smirked despite himself, "I can only imagine his parent's reactions to something like that..."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "In a way it is ironic, but then - well, just think about it. It's... really, really sad."

"It's _Malfoy_."

"No, it's just sad, no matter who it is. As a werewolf, Draco will have to go through everything every werewolf goes through - and you've heard how painful transformations are from Lupin."

"True," Ron replied, the smirk fading, "I'd never want to go through that."

"And then Draco's got all the other stuff - his parents probably won't talk to him now, if the news spreads to Slytherin then all his housemates will go off him, his whole life as he knew it - snobbery and all - is in ruins."

Ron had sobered considerably - Harry knew that he had a big heart, and was a compassionate person deep down, but he was quite judgemental of people and didn't often accept that they could change. He knew that Ron was only looking out for him, but he didn't need to. "I wasn't thinking about it that way."

"No," Harry agreed, "you weren't. So I think, this truce, it's the right way to go, even if you're just civil - I'm not asking you to be friends or anything."

Ron pursed his lips. "All right, if you put it that way."

"Thank you." Harry was filled with a dense feeling of happiness - he had done something to help Draco, even if it was just changing somebody's opinion on him to some extent. He was doing something worthwhile.

"Do you want to play exploding snap now?"

Harry laughed.

"Yeah, sure."

* * *

**A/N: Yep, I will definitely stop my Ron-bashing now (though I didn't think it was that bad) for I love Ron and can't do that for extended amounts of time!  
**

**Oodles of thanks to Merthurtilidie (Yessss, possibly next chapter or the chapter after there will be more wolfiness! I'm just a bit slow at build up XD) Imperial Mint (Freddo's are amazing, but would be more so if they could hop...) Yana5 (Yep, Ronniekins is lovely :D) ninjadragons (The Drarry will be coming, don't worry, I just don't know when yet...), xo i love emmett xo, Team Jasper1 (if I was any team I would be Team Jasper too! And I'm glad I'm helping convert you to the wonderful genre of slashfiction!) and miss quirky bookworm (Oops... I think Ron did do something a little bit stupid - my apologies!)**

**I would catch you all a golden snitch but, alas... I'm not a good catcher! (Their existence is not a problem - they _must_ exist! XD)**

**I've just been thinking, since I don't have that much plot planned - any requests? :)**

A/N 2: Wow, I just go on and on and on and on and on and on and-


	14. Calming

_Calming_

_Thck, thck, thck_ - somebody was knocking at his door. He woke up for the third time that morning. First he wondered if it was Mrs. Weasley, but by seeing the quality of light struggling to get through the blinds and simply sniffing the air, using his even keener than usual senses, told him it was a bit past breakfast time now.

That left only three possible options - it was Mrs. Weasley anyway, it was Lupin or it was Potter deciding that morning visits were now a good idea too.

The evening before had this time gone without a hitch - mostly because Potter barely even glanced at him, which in a way had been amusing. Instead he had picked up another of Draco's books, probably at random seeming as it concerned brewing potions using aquatic weeds, and Draco did likewise, managing to pick up the dragons book which had been one of his Godfather's more interesting choices. They had settled down and whiled away a few hours, eventually getting lost in reading and each other's quiet company, until Harry had yawned, set the book down and said a hasty goodnight before dragging his feet across the room and closing the door.

It had been easy and had fulfilled the ache he usually felt inside now when he was left alone - he blamed it on the surprisingly sociable creature that was the wolf. It was getting louder and louder nowadays, just waiting to howl at the moon as it would tonight, and Draco felt too tired to quieten it quite as severely as per usual. At least Potter seemed to temporarily satisfy it.

Three more knocks sounded and he deigned them an answer.

"Enter." For once he didn't care if he looked sleepy and bedraggled - because he was. It wasn't any fun tossing and turning most of the night, constantly waking up after a bout of shallow slumber, not being able to sleep no matter how much you wanted to. He blamed it on the wolf, again, which gave a grumble of dissatisfaction at its continued foul treatment of blame.

The door opened slowly, tentatively, and he guessed it was Lupin before he even saw his face. Mrs. Weasley would have barged in with a loud, cheery hullo and even Harry would have moved faster. Lupin seemed far too considerate of others for his own good - _he would make a good doormat_, Draco concluded to himself.

"Good morning," he said in his quiet voice and Draco looked away - it was not a good morning in the slightest.

As Draco sat up in his bed, trying valiantly not to look too grumpy and smoothing down his hair, as was habit, Lupin chose a chair and perched on it, evidently here for another talk about the annoying little problem they both happened to share.

"Well," Lupin began, "Today's the day."

_How observant of you, idiot._

"I haven't talked about the transformation until now," Lupin kept glancing at him, "because I don't mean to distress you at all - but I will be honest. The first transformation always hurts."

Draco took a deep breath.

"It hurt with me, it has hurt with every new wolf I have looked after so far - by which there have been a few. Firstly, I want you to be able to brace yourself for the pain, be ready for it, so it doesn't catch you by surprise."

Draco exhaled slowly.

"Also, I want you to understand the arrangements we'll have for tonight. This afternoon Severus will be dropping by with some Wolfsbane which we will take first - it's not the most pleasant of tastes, but you get used to it," Lupin shrugged lackadaisically, "Then I want you to rest as much as possible in your room, sleep if you want to, so you're not too tired by the time the transformation comes - I doubt you will get much sleep tonight."

"All right." Draco replied half-heartedly, even though the advice seemed sound enough - it was just that he would have to be in his room all alone again, which he enjoyed even less than bearing the Weasel's company. In the night it was okay, seeming as he was just sleeping, but when he was on his own he began to feel paranoid - the heavy ghosts of fear began to settle onto him and make him uneasy.

"I heard... about Harry finding out." Lupin added, looking levelly at Draco this time, who looked away again.

"Did you?" He asked, his voice sounding mildly interested.

"I can talk to Harry if you want, about the-"

"No, no, it's fine," Draco supplied, anything to stop more fuss, "in fact Granger seems to have forced us all into a truce - so there shouldn't be any problems."

Lupin gave him a beaming smile, which looked foreign to his usually meek and sombre features - "That's wonderful! I wasn't too sure about Ron at first - but I knew that Harry and Hermione would handle this in the right way..."

"Hang on, does Granger know about it?" With uncharacteristic stupidity, Draco had not thought of that. He had simply thought she wanted to stop the arguing or some other Mudblood thing.

"Well," Lupin looked sheepish again, an expression far more suited to him, "after the whole incident with Harry finding out he talked to Hermione about it before things could get more out of hand. She's very talented at sorting out problems, is Hermione."

Draco couldn't help but feel a rising resentment - didn't Harry think Draco's secrets were sacred and to be kept to the grave? He would certainly be asking him about that.

"Is there anything else you want to know?" Lupin asked, evidently trying to change the subject.

"No," Draco replied coldly, feeling more hatred towards Lupin than he had before, mostly out of his general anger. So what if he had questions really? This was a matter of pride - he would not rely on this man for anything, for the fat lot of help he had been so far.

Lupin left silently, seeing that Draco no longer wanted to talk. He wondered if the boy really would be easier to handle in wolf form than the unpredictable, emotional landmine of a boy he was now...

***

In the end his growling stomach managed to persuade him and he went downstairs and warily entered the dining room, the barrage of voices hitting him like one of Mrs. Weasley's heavy metal pans. There was no moment, as he had secretly dreaded, of everybody turning around and staring at him, their words left half spoken, and in fact nobody paid him much attention as he took a seat at the empty end of the table and took a sandwich from the nearest plate.

It was a minute or two before he even made eye contact with anybody, and it had not been who he had expected - Granger looked at him and _smiled_. He didn't know whether to feel revolted or... relieved? Either way, he knew that winning over the residents of the house, no matter how unsavoury they were, was the intelligent thing to do (so living with them would seem less of a daily war.)

The second to look towards him, though surreptitiously, was Lupin. The looks were frequent, and it was easy to tell that they were trained on Draco's food intake - Draco swallowed the resentment that Lupin was monitoring how much food he ate like his minders used to do when he was a toddler. He decided it best to simply forget Lupin's existence for a while.

The third was Potter. They happened to catch each other's eye at the same time and played what Draco thought to be a battle of stares. Then, with the fluttering in his stomach as a reminder, he realised that Potter could be seeing it as something else and tore his gaze away. He didn't want Potter guessing anything if he could help it.

The Weasley children all steadfastly ignored him, which was fine by Draco, the main Weasel trying especially hard to forget he was there. Perhaps it was his own way of avoiding confrontation, because merely looking at Draco usually seemed to anger him.

He picked up his fourth sandwich, his stomach willing him to push it to the twentieth, and stared at the table, his brow creased slightly. Tonight is the night.

A rush of fear started to course through him - tonight is the night I become an unsightly beast!

His breathing quickened, his heart raced in trepidation, his hands clenched and sent his nails digging into the tablecloth. He felt out of his depth, out of control, out of it, out of it-

_Calm down_, the wolf, the very thing itself, told him in its soft, gruff voice. _I know how much you hate public displays of emotion - you're about to commit one now_.

It had been the right thing to say. Draco forced his nails out of the table and clasped his hands together loosely. He took a deep, quiet breath. He saved his panicked brain from the brink. This was how a Malfoy behaved.

_That's it_, the werewolf agreed, _there's no point panicking._

_Why are you being nice all of a sudden? _Draco wondered - even a few minutes earlier the wolf had been panting with anticipation, howling with excitement, whimpering with glee. Now it was comforting him?

_We're in this together. I am you and you are me now._

Draco still found it a bit odd that the wolf, which was only a disease in essence, could have a voice, but what it said still managed to somewhat comfort him.

***

Harry couldn't help but eventually let his eyes train on Draco not long after he entered the room. Whilst scrutinizing as much subtlety as he could muster, he could see that Draco was determinedly trying to look stoical, emotionless, but flickers of what he must have really felt were still showing, if you looked as hard as Harry was for them. The way his eyes suddenly darted from one place to the next, the faint signs of fatigue that further paled his skin, his fingers tense on the table. Harry thought he had every right to feel afraid, no matter how much he himself tried to hide it.

Then Draco looked up and Harry could have clutched the table-cloth himself. His deep-set eyes, usually calm and collected, looked at first like two abysses of exhaustion and fear. He watched, transfixed, whilst they slightly widened at their and Harry's eyes' contact and then seemed to mellow in a way that Harry didn't completely understand, yet he was glad for it - making Draco more comfortable was his current purpose after all.

Then Draco looked away and Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. His heart arched back again from where it had been stretched against his ribcage - he blamed the curious feeling it inspired on the empathy he had always been told he had an abundance of.

The rest of lunch passed in relative relaxation, Harry no longer staring at Draco but concentrating on making himself eat (the progress was slow, but at least he felt some real hunger now that food could even fulfil.)

Just as he was on his second sandwich Lupin stood and glanced meaningfully across the table to where Draco, who Harry assumed to be under his care for the night, was sitting and had finished eating. He also rose, taking a deep breath that could have been to steady himself, and then began to leave.

Harry blinked once, twice. Thought about what was going on. Would he see Draco again before the transformation? He decided that he really did want to talk to him just before it happened, perhaps comfort him with words the way that his eyes had done earlier, make things slightly better than they were.

He stood up impulsively, let his legs lead him to where he wanted to be, and was hot on Lupin's heels. Lupin turned around, gave him one of his trademark warm smiles.

"Harry, is there anything you want?"

"Dr- I mean, I want to speak to Draco quickly." He admitted after a pause, reddening at what he had been about to say: Draco's name - now that would have had embarrassing connotations!

His gaze fluctuated between his former teacher and Draco, who himself was looking at Lupin for his opinion. Lupin gave a nod and another smile, "Take as long as you like."

He made his way up the stairs with quick and quiet grace, leaving Draco and Harry to dart looks at each other, neither knowing really what to say. Even Harry didn't know what to say, which was stupid because apparently he had wanted something to say. _But what? What?_ His mind raced - _I'm making a fool of myself here-_

"Do you want to go into the study?" Draco gestured to the right door with a small jerk of the head and Harry nodded, grateful. The time to get there gave him time to gather his thoughts.

They both sat down on the only sofa, Harry making sure that he left Draco enough personal space - he didn't think that he would want to be crowded.

"Erm..." he began and didn't get much further.

"This is about tonight, isn't it?" Draco asked, voice low and defeated, eyes focusing on his delicate hands. "You're trying to reassure me." The words had no emotion, were forced into submission as neutral statements, though Harry could see that Draco's hands were beginning to tremble infrequently.

He nodded, then realized that Draco wasn't looking at him. "Yes," he said, cleared his throat, "I suppose that's what it is."

Any comfortable atmosphere that could have been, that had been during the last few times they had spent together reading in companionable silence, crept along the floor and escaped under the door. Harry cleared his throat again, at a loss. How exactly would he go about comforting someone who was going to transform into a werewolf anyway?_ I'm sure it's not that bad? Maybe you'll like it? _Everything he thought of seemed insulting and ridiculous.

"You don't have to," Draco said, now with a hint of the misery he must have been feeling behind the wall of his face, "it won't change anything. There's nothing that could comfort me now."

Harry's mind was racing again, riffling through thoughts and memories on how to comfort people, something he had never been good at. He thought about how other people did it - Ron would be no good. Lupin only had to smile, but Harry didn't have a smile like that. Tonks would crack a joke, but Harry didn't think that would be appropriate towards someone like Draco. Hermione! That was it! Hermione would... she would...

He followed the instructions of how she would comfort him or Ron as if her voice was in his head, telling him with an air of authority exactly what to do.

_Don't seem like you completely oppose what he's saying, or he'll get annoyed with you..._ Hermione had used that on Ron a few times and Draco, though he hid it, was nearly as easy to anger as Ron was.

"I know that there isn't much I can do," Harry agreed with a sinking of his stomach - there really wasn't and it pained him, "but I just wanted to see you before you retired to your room."

He cautiously looked at Draco to gauge his reaction - he nodded, his eyelids fluttering slightly, and he did, as far as Harry could tell, look slightly more positive. Harry tried step number two in his half-formed plan. _Make him look forwards, to the future, when the ordeal will be over with. Distract some of his focus._

"And I wanted to say that I'll visit you tomorrow, afterwards, if you'd like?" Harry looked at Draco properly this time, who gave a short nod but kept his gaze firmly from Harry.

"I would." He replied, his voice unnaturally monotonous, even more seemingly emotionless than it was normally.

Harry smiled - it was certainly admirable how calm Draco was trying to appear, but he wanted to show him that it didn't _have_ to be that way. He tentatively lifted one hand and Draco immediately stared at it, although Harry didn't know whether it was a stare that stated 'back off' or one of mere interest at what the hand was possibly going to do. He decided to take the risk, and placed it on Draco's shoulder.

***

It even surprised Draco himself, given that he was used to strange reactions lately, how simply Potter's hand immediately caused him to feel like he was completely on fire. The burn started blossoming at his shoulder, dark red flowers of pure energy, and spread through him, making him want to sigh and close his eyes in pleasure. He didn't even bat the hand away, as part of his brain was telling him to do in a distant voice.

For one, it calmed him like nothing else, not even Potter's voice, could have - and he needed a source of peace like that for his jangling nerves and chaotic senses which were now focused purely on one thing - attraction.

He even let himself sink further back into the sofa, his body before having been tense and unmoving, and took a deep breath. He didn't dare look at Potter, who was probably growing increasingly confused as Draco's showing of anything that was not icy composure. _Well_, Draco thought, _he's being confusing too - since when did Potter even want to touch me?_

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Potter's hand a beautiful weight on Draco's shoulder. Draco's mind entertained thoughts of furthering the intimacy, yet in an abstract way - he did not truly expect Potter to be comfortable with anything beyond one hand on one shoulder, and he wasn't completely at home with the ideas popping up in his brain either, no matter how tempting they sounded. Also, ideas too clear could cause him to have an erection, which just was not going to happen.

Then the weight, sadly, was taken away, though Harry's smile aimed at him did lessen the disappointment a little bit. "Sorry, but I promised Ron that we'd tackle our Potions assignment together today - Hermione's refusing to help this time."

The wolf growled, but Draco told it to shut up. It had _had_ its precious time with Potter now.

_Now_, he thought as Potter walked away with one last glance at him, _it is time to transform._

"Okay," he forced himself to say, "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

**Sorry there's been such a space in-between posts... can I cite recent exams and coursework deadlines as an excuse? Yes, I think I will :P**

**An abundance of gratitude to Merthurtilidie (sorry, no full moon yet! I spent too much time writing filler XD) egoXlockheart (does this prove that I don't update all the time? Heh.) Imperial Mint (definitely wolfy-wolf - I've always imagined werewolves that way, no matter how the films portray them!) Yana5 (patience, it will happen! I couldn't not let it really XD) miss quirky bookworm (I think Ron's okay now...) Draco and Hermione is like PBJ (Thanks! I often see you reviewing stories I've also reviewed - we must both have good taste ^^) funnyducky (no worries, you don't have to leave a review for every chapter! I love hearing from you any time! Also, I do happen to have a little idea about Hermione and werewolf literature... all shall be revealed later...) and nylondon (thanks for reviewing!)**

**Also, I want to give lots of love to all my subscribers - I can't believe it's at 150 now - I feel so grateful to you all, I've never had a story to this level of popularity before! Thank you all ^^**

**- purplerawr**

_p.s. Isn't Lackadaisical such a fantastic word? I felt I had to include it!_


	15. Transforming

_Transforming_

They were in Draco's room, Draco sitting straight-backed on one side of his bed and Lupin reclined into his usual chair of choice, gaze flicking to him every minute or so with concern. It was unnerving, but Draco chose to ignore it. He had bigger things to think about.

Such as turning into a bloodthirsty, angry, vengeful beast. Well, definitely take out bloodthirsty - Draco had managed to ingest a ghastly dose of Wolfsbane, which tasted of nasty things he could not even identify, so hopefully he would be too insane during the transformation. He hoped, anyway. He really had no idea what he would feel as a wolf, no matter how much Lupin described to him. He would just have to find out himself.

"Okay," Lupin broke the oppressive silence around half an hour later, "Let's get ready." There was no inappropriate enthusiasm or patronizing tones there, just a quiet resignation that the transformation was going to happen and they were to deal with it. Draco supposed that was how Lupin had grown to view his own full-moon experiences - they were just a part of his dreadful life.

Draco looked at him. "What... do I have to do?" He had to speak slowly and pause to try and keep his voice calm, which was a battle within itself.

"I suggest," Lupin said, looking to the floor, "that we go on the floor, because I think you certainly won't want to fall onto the floor when it happens." He demonstrated by deftly diving into a crouch on the floor, making Draco jerk his head back in surprise and scepticism. He did not want to crouch like a common beast. He was almost about to comment on the embarrassment of it when Lupin looked up.

"I know it's not dignified," he said evenly, "but it's the least painful this way, I know that. And it's just you and me in this room, going through the exact same thing - I won't laugh at you or ridicule you for any of this, because I'm doing it too. Okay?"

Draco let out a long breath, almost a sigh of impatience, but slid down from the bed and copied Lupin's crouch. At first he felt ridiculous, but then awareness of that slipped away as Lupin carried on talking in a smooth, lilting voice probably designed to calm him in the way it was.

"Okay, we're going to stay like this, and make sure you keep your arms secure on the floor. The wolf naturally assumes this position post-transformation afterwards, I find, so you'll feel less disorientated." Draco nodded, hardly realising that Lupin was looking to the ground so could not see him. "I know it sounds trivial, but I want you to make sure you keep taking deep breaths and try to keep feeling calm - try to empty your thoughts as best you can. It will make it all easier."

Lupin's voice trailed away, almost to a whisper, and Draco tried to do what he had said. _Empty my thoughts, empty my thoughts, empty my thoughts..._

_That's right_, the wolf agreed in long, soothing tone, a puppy-like excitement laying just beneath the surface of the words. It was allowed out tonight and was happy about it, even if it had been muted somewhat by the potion. Draco could almost bring himself to be happy for it, but knew he would have to suffer for its joy.

A few minutes later Lupin spoke again. "Feeling relaxed?"

"Yes," Draco whispered, though partly it was a lie. A small fear was beginning to rear up inside of him, but he tried to quieten it down. It grew with the wolf's excitement, anticipation, worry.

"Right," Lupin said, "Here we go. I'll be here."

The words were oddly comforting, given whom they were coming from, and Draco momentarily thought about what they meant.

Then all thought emptied his head as moonlight shone through the window and hit him all over with nowhere to hide.

He had expected pain, this was not singular pain - a multitude of every conceivable agony ripped through him and tore at his body and mind. Physical pains, prevalent and the strongest, racking his body and making him convulse, twist and writhe in ways he had thought impossible before. Emotional pains - anger at what he was going through, the shame that was always inside growing in strength and size, a blinding fear that made his eyes screw shut, pain by the wolf trying to take over his entire conscious mind.

It seemed to last forever, stretching and contorting him in every way, but then it was gone in a split-second. He found himself in the exact position that he had left as a human.

He had expected to slump down and pass out once the ordeal had finished, but instead he was bombarded by a sudden energy, a need to get up and around like... well, like a wolf puppy. He was barraged by his senses - he looked out of the window and could study a passing Muggle down to every freckle, mole and blemish on their sullen face. Thankfully, given the magic glass, they were oblivious to him.

He could hear how fast his heart was beating, how fast Lupin's beated (notably slower) and more of them through the walls and floor (slower still.) He could smell every scent of the house, pleasant or not so pleasant. He could taste the particular flavour of musty air he inhaled in greedy puffs and pants.

After a few seconds of taking all this new information in, his awareness shifted from his head to the rest of his body. He looked down at his hands, which were now two sharp-clawed paws, as were his strong back legs. He held up his front leg, studying the pure white fur that covered it with the odd dapple of grey, burying his face in its foreign feel.

He gave his tail an experimental swish and revelled at feeling it move, brushing against his back and legs.

Somewhere distant in his human brain a voice told him he should be disgusted and ashamed, but it was hard to when he was so embroiled in his new, frankly fascinating and far more energetic self. He felt like he actually _had_ slept well in the past few days, not fitfully. It was a pleasant sensation.

He was somewhat surprised that he felt no desire to bite, no blood thirst whatsoever, but remembered that the Wolfsbane had taken care of that. It really did taste vile, but it did its job. Draco felt more like a playful young dog than a dangerous wolf that could ruin a life, like his had been, in one little bite.

To distract himself from the dark turn his thoughts had taken, even in his wolf's brain, he wagged his tail again and ducked his head into the soft fur on his chest. He looked up again, remembering the other occupant of the room, and saw a bigger wolf (which he noted with some jealousy) with copper coloured fur and the same startling amber eyes that he had only ever seen on Lupin.

Lupin was looking back at him, his eyes glinting with amusement at the curious young wolf standing before him. Draco couldn't even bring himself to be affronted - he was too busy trying to stave off the sudden temptation to chase his tail. He kept on wagging it, though, like a silver propeller.

After a few minutes of watching, Lupin gave a yawn, emitting an odd high-pitched sound as he did so, and made to lie down on the floor. Draco was pained to do the same - he felt so energetic, so alive! Did he really have to go to sleep already?

He pleaded the silent question with his eyes and Lupin answered with a stern look that seemed to say _the more rest you get now, the less exhausted you'll feel tomorrow._

Draco huffed as best he could, revelling at how different it sounded to when he was human, but also lay down, resting his dark nose (that couldn't stop sniffing the air even when he closed his eyes) on his front paws.

Try as he might, he could not sleep. The thoughts of running under the moon, through forests and glades, play fighting with the other imaginary wolves he created in his head, lingered and persisted, would not leave. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, seeing and hearing (through heart beat) that Lupin had drifted off into a light sleep. He did not wake him though - the man looked constantly tired, he needed his sleep.

He cocked an ear, listening to the noises of the house, the calm breathing and unconscious whispers of sleep. If he tried hard enough, he could discern one breath from another - two rooms away from his, along the corridor, he knew that Granger was asleep by her quiet, careful exhalations.

Closer by, the room next door, he could hear two intermingling breaths and heartbeats, but could tell the difference - one was Weasley, his breathing erratic and laced with snores. He switched off to this one immediately. The other was...

_Harry_, the wolf supplied, its voice much louder and defined than it had ever been before. It was his voice now, Draco having been pushed to the back of his mind. Perhaps one day he would find a way to balance them, merge them even. Right now they were just too different.

His breathing was slow, even and rhythmic. He heard him mumble something meaningless in sleep and shifted closer to the wall, ears straining to catch words that simply weren't there. He permitted himself to get up and lay next to the wall, one ear pressed into it, knowing that Harry's bed was directly the other side of the thin barrier.

Draco slowed down his quick panting breaths to match Harry's, falling into time, and only this could eventually lull him into sleep.

***

Harry woke early that morning, but felt the most rested he had in days. His dreams had been full of what could have possibly happened next door, but none of them had been nightmares - all of them had been of a handsome, silver wolf, exactly how he imagined Draco would appear. He hoped, albeit secretly, that he would be able to see him in wolf form one day - he knew that for safety reasons it wasn't a good idea, but since when had personal safety ever been his topmost priority?

His bare feet padded downstairs, poking under pyjama trousers (he would get dressed when it turned to a more suitable hour and when Ron was up and out the room) and could only hear Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. However, when he walked into the lounge he found Lupin there, looking tired with prominent bags around his eyes.

"Morning," Harry said, not trying to sound too cheerful so as not to advertise how wakeful he felt and Lupin nodded at him, still managing a smile even though he looked exhausted.

"Good morning, Harry," he replied, chin resting on his thin, laced fingers.

Harry thought he could be patient enough not to bother Lupin about the topic that was evidently heavy on both their minds, but he could not. "How's Draco?" He blurted out after sitting down on a moth-eaten armchair.

Lupin gave him a glance that would have seemed penetrating had it belonged to anybody else's eyes. "He's fine, the transformation went smoothly. He's just sleeping it off now."

Harry exhaled. "Oh, good."

"So," Lupin asked, sitting back, "I hear you two are getting along well."

Harry wondered briefly where he had heard it - had Draco talked to him about it? - but then realized that any communication between he and Draco that wasn't arguing or duelling could be seen as them 'getting along well.' He was still happy to hear it, all the same.

"Yeah," he agreed, "I just decided that because he's living here I should be more friendly towards him. If I was turned into a werewolf and sent to a place I didn't like, I would be craving some acceptance and hospitality. It was the least I could do, really, being civil."

Lupin's smile was no longer tired but full of a life that Harry had barely seen in his face before. For once he looked his age, no, even younger than that, and Harry could see that in his youth he could have given even Sirius a run for his galleons.

"I'm so glad to hear it," he said, "I was afraid that Draco would be shunned from all sides after this incident - it's great to see that he will have people looking out for him. Especially when he's at school; Dumbledore can protect him from the outside world at Hogwarts, but not from the taunting and bullying from the other students." Lupin's look turned sad again. "I was lucky enough that only my three friends and the teachers knew about my lycanthropy. Draco has no such luck."

Harry hadn't thought about that. "Seriously? Everyone will know?"

"Voldemort will make sure of that," Lupin replied, "This wasn't done just to lessen his quality of life but also to shame his family name. He will make sure that his underlings will spread around the news."

Harry felt terribly sad and empathetic, but he also felt a little sense of pride - it was the first time in a long time, in fact perhaps ever, that an adult had talked to him without withholding facts and their real feelings over the matter. He marvelled that someone, even someone as fair as Lupin, could do that with him now - perhaps people saw him as more mature than he used to be, or saw him with more respect. It was a nice, validating feeling that Harry made sure to store away and remember.

They carried on talking for a little over an hour, about all sorts of things, until Mrs. Weasley called everyone for breakfast. Harry, realising that his stomach was aching for sustenance, was first at the table and eyeing the food with more interest than even the sleepy Ron could muster. He did notice that one place usually filled was empty - Draco's place, opposite his. People had mostly kept their places since the time Draco had given them out, though now Ron was sitting next to him again.

The mood was a bit subdued this morning - Lupin because he was tired, said little at all. Mrs. Weasley also looked worried, now and again glancing at the door, hoping that it would open to reveal a certain blond-haired boy walking in. Mr. Weasley, making a rare morning appearance, occasionally put a calming hand on her shoulder. Hermione also looked a bit worried and Harry found it touching that even she, who had received so much verbal abuse from Draco, could still care about his wellbeing. Ron just looked sullen, but Harry could tell that in his own way he was curious about it, perhaps even worried.

It reinforced what Lupin had been saying - Draco couldn't be expecting much hospitality from the world now, seeming as he had been shunned from his parents' side and had generally been shunned before by most people - ever since his father had gone to Azkaban - but here he had people who still cared. Harry was proud to call himself one of them, though this time last year he would have laughed at the thought.

When no Draco appeared and the breakfast table disbanded, Harry spent the rest of the morning with Ron and Hermione, trying to avoid any remaining summer assignments. It was early afternoon now and he took a little tour of the house to see if Draco had surfaced from his room yet - no such luck.

Eventually he was led to the door next to his and Ron's. Draco's room. He lifted a hand, nervously, willing it to push forward and knock. Yet it froze in mid-air, poised by uncertainty, and he couldn't work out why. Why was he always so careful around Draco, so eager to see him and then shy in his presence? Since when had Harry ever been shy anyway?

It was all mind-boggling, the way he and Draco were now - with no common ground of name-calling and bickering, a tentative friendship in the making, Harry had no idea what things were supposed to be like. All he knew was that this was a friendship that he fiercely wanted to defend like the Gryffindor lion he was, even if it was with a Slytherin snake. He simply focused on that feeling and let his hand fall to the wood, knocking three times.

He waited.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I haven't read this back over so sorry if it has numerous spelling failures... I just really wanted to post it! I also realise that not much plot happens in this story - maybe that will change, maybe it won't XD I like talking about feelings too much, girly sop that I am.**

**E-cookies to iloveemmett (transformation this chapter! yay!) Draco and Hermione are like PBJ (ah, yes, the Drarry will happen at some point!) Yana5 (yeah, I think the wolf makes more sense than Draco does sometimes XD) Merthurtilidie (UST is actually my favourite part of Drarry fics, that and the getting together bit, that's always good...) ForeverJynxed (You're fantastic too! And I also think 'phenomenal' is a phenomenal word :) And I'm loving the Rocky Horror reference - what a film!) Cinders Kitten (Yay, I like cheering people up!) alice22 (aww, I'd never put Draco through TOO much pain. Just a tad. Honest.) Twilight4everTDI2 (I get confused like that too! Sometimes I'm like "I'm sure that happened in the book... no wait, read it in a fanfiction. Whoops!") Msedward (Lackadaisical; without much energy or enthusiasm. One of my favourite words!) Cass92 (thank you for the review!) viper4snake (I swear the wolf it becoming its own character... I should have more control over it, but I really don't.) Arcus Pluvius (Yeah, I really need to sort out that age typo... wherever I put it... and don't worry, chill out! I'm writing as fast as I can XD)**

**I think that's the most reviews I've had so far for one post! Thank you so much!**


	16. Celebrating

_Celebrating_

The week following the transformation passed in a mostly nondescript blur for Draco, only intersected by a few important events.

The first was the day after the transformation in general - it was partly amusing, watching everyone treat him as if one wrong little comment would send him over the edge, uncomfortable because everyone (even the Weasel) seemed hyper-aware of him and also strangely comforting because he was allowed to step into a routine he had grown used to during his forced vacation at Grimmauld Place.

Every morning he would rise early, relishing in his even sharper senses (the wolf had not been lying about opening up his awareness) and make his way down to the kitchen, where he would receive whatever cookery lesson Mrs. Weasley had in store for him next (over the week itself he had moved from learning all the different ways of cooking an egg to baking a simple cake, which _had_ gone slightly wrong, to his perfectionist's dismay, but was passable.)

Then there would be the breakfast meal. Most of the usual suspects were there every morning, namely Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley and their bunch of real and surrogate children, for Lupin only stayed the first morning Draco was up - Draco assumed that Lupin's part for looking out for him was over for now, to be resumed at the next dreadful turn of the full moon.

Draco, as part of a completely unspoken and almost unregistered agreement, now sat between Potter and Granger, and he had to admit that it was the easiest place to sit (and considerably less likely to piss off the Weasley children, which was a shame and a relief all in one now that he was sharing a house with them.)

He would then spend the morning doing various chores around the gloomy abode and Mrs. Weasley, overseer of the cleaning, seemed determined to constantly pair him off with Harry, having sensed the smaller amount of enmity between them now. He didn't mind overly much - anything was better than bickering with the Weasel all day.

Though spending a lot of time with the Boy Who Lived was posing problems too, problems that Draco wished he didn't have to experience - the attraction, whatever it was and wherever it was coming from, was definitely still there. It was evident in the way he was constantly hyper-aware of how he was acting, what he was doing, how he looked. The way his pulse raced. The way a glance felt like something... _significant_, though he didn't want to know what.

The wolf, sleepy and satisfied after its brief burst of freedom, seemed content to not impart any wise words on the situation, so Draco was left to his own fevered imaginings.

So he spent his days, with the little willpower his traitorous mind filled with bad thoughts about Potter he definitely should not be having gave him, to hardly look at Potter, definitely not touch him in any way and to only talk if necessary. It usually didn't work - Potter had gained a sudden need to chat all the time, visit him nearly every evening and always be around.

On the fifth morning of the week, the last day of July, Draco rose later than he would usually - this was not an accident, Draco hardly ever did anything by accident, it was because Mrs. Weasley had told him, with a conspiratorial wink that Draco hadn't bothered to question further, that she was busy all morning.

He found out why when he walked downstairs and into the dining room - by the looks of the balloons, charmed to float in mid-air and change colour in ambient shifts, confetti-covered table and banner covering one wall it appeared that it was someone's birthday.

"Who's that?" He heard Mrs. Weasley call and turned to see her bustling towards him. "Ah, it's you dear. I was worried it was Harry - I don't want him to see the dining room until his birthday dinner!"

Draco's stomach sank - it was Potter's birthday. He suddenly could not stop thinking about how he didn't have a gift for him; the thought of Potter's disappointed face would not leave his head. He backed out of the dining room quickly and found his hand drawn to the handle on the door leading to the little study - the only place apart from his room where he felt completely comfortable.

To his disappointment, he found it full of people - namely the Weasel, Granger and Potter. Potter. He turned to leave again, not wanting to face them today.

"Draco, hang on!" Potter's voice stopped him and he turned back, feeling trapped by his own foolish wants. "We have some breakfast here," Potter explained, gesturing to the little table covered with plates of toast, butter and jam, "in case you're hungry."

It was disturbing how well Draco had come to know Potter's expressions, especially with the self-promise not to look at him - right now he was wearing one of humble kindness, truly wanting him to share the food and sit with them. _Foolish Gryffindors_, Draco thought on default as he grabbed two pieces of toast and ate them plain, sitting in a sunken-seated armchair in the corner of the room, watching the Golden Trio sitting on the sofa as he slowly ate. They carried on talking as if he hadn't entered, though the Weasel sent him the occasional wary glance.

"Harry," Granger was saying excitedly, "When will you open our presents?"

Potter thought about it, prolonging it, thoroughly enjoying the day as it seemed, and smiled. "I don't think Mrs. Weasley would be happy if I opened anything before my birthday dinner..."

"Oh Harry!" Granger exclaimed reproachfully, reminding Draco thoroughly of her know-it-all goody-goody status, "How did you find out?"

"Well..." Potter replied, fighting a bigger smile and glanced at the Weasel, who pointedly looked away in turn with a blush that really didn't complement his unsightly freckles, yet still got a playful shove on the shoulder and a sigh from Granger.

"I should have known," she said, giving them a look like she was a teacher and they two boys being caught in the middle of a childish prank, "You can't keep anything from each other."

The more Draco watched, sinking into the corner of the room, the more he forgot these were three people he had been told to hate and had at least thoroughly disliked - he saw a group of friends, the three components making up their trio - Ron, the impulsive, loud, all-over-the-place friend who always had something to say and a joke to make. Hermione, the equally as opinionated, organised, plan-obsessed friend who acted as guidance counsellor and looked out for the other two. Harry, the comfortable middle way between his two companions, the glue that kept them together, the kind and easygoing friend who was dependable in nearly all situations.

He could see how they worked in a way that he and his friends, their relationships based on alliances and respect, never would. They had a trust in one another he had never experienced and could not help but feel jealous of, deep down in his heart he always had. Watching them was both painful and glorious. Harry, Ron and Hermione, best friends in the world.

_Potter, Granger, Weasley_ he chanted to himself, not wanting to get too lost in their foolish ideals. He didn't want to be friends with them, he reminded himself.

Soon his thoughts drifted back to the problem at hand - Potter's birthday. What was he going to do? Say even? It was far too late now to wish him a happy birthday without looking a fool, but it was rude not to. Everything seemed to be a conundrum that wouldn't favour him either way.

He had the rest of the day to ponder it, even as he sat through Potter's aforementioned birthday dinner full of noisy conversation, the clatter of forks on plates and presents opening. Draco watched this last one with the keenest interest, sitting at one edge of the table, once again with a sense of déjà vu sitting next to the men he now knew to be Kingsley and Fletcher, who didn't look happy to be there or not be there, their faces constantly in stoic mode.

Potter looked completely thrilled at the pile of presents in front of him, but modestly tried to hide it no matter how much the Weasel egged him on to open them all quickly. He didn't - he took his time, treating each gift as something fragile and precious, truly appreciating their worth as he peeled off the paper and turned each gift over in his hands.

Predictably, he received a book from Granger on what appeared to be about Quidditch from the picture of a Snitch Draco could see embossed into the cover. From Ron Weasley he got a bumper pack of sweets that looked like it could last for months (Draco kept the insult about money that popped into his head on seeing it to himself - he didn't need comments like that any more) and from the other Weasleys he received a broom-care kit and a pack of eagle-feather quills.

From Lupin he got another book, this time one about defensive spells to use against dark creatures. Lupin and Draco managed to catch eyes at this and exchange a wry smile that nobody else noticed.

Only Draco and Weasley, standing next to Potter at the time, saw the bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey that the vibrant Tonks woman slipped into Potter's hands with a wink and a goofy smile. Draco eyed it jealously - the last time he had gotten drunk had been at one of his parent's awfully boring parties full of people twice his age just to escape the tedium. Potter would probably do it laughing with his friends.

He realized soon after that that had been the first time he had been able to think of his parents without feeling a rush of longing pain.

A few hours later and celebrations winding down, Draco retreated to his room. He had barely closed the door when a knock sounded and he knew, with a smile he could not stop, exactly who it was. Then, whilst opening the door, he was mentally reminded once again that he had no present for Potter, and would have probably closed it again if his natural manner had not prevented it.

Harry came in wordlessly, already looking a bit tipsy no doubt from the Firewhiskey he and Weasley had already tried by the way his eyes were slightly less perceptive than usual.

"Draco," he said, the word like vocal velvet, "I wondered where you had gone." Without further announcement he walked in and sat on the bed. Draco, with a much sicker mind than the innocent Potter, could not help but think of the connotations of the action that barged into his brain and made his face feel hot.

"Potter," he replied, not sure whether to sit down or stay where he was. Then the bubble of guilt began to swell in his throat. "I didn't get you anything."

Potter blinked. "For my birthday, do you mean?" He didn't look offended and angry, as any of Draco's Slytherin friends would have been, instead he laughed. "I wouldn't have expected you to, having been in the house for the past two weeks. Don't worry about it."

That still wouldn't dampen the feeling that yet again Draco had let someone down.

"Still-" he began.

"Still nothing," Potter finished, "It's really nothing to get bothered about. I forgot it was my birthday until Ron reminded me."

_Then why do I feel so bothered about it?_ Draco asked the wolf, desperate for it to end its sleepy silence and speak up.

_It's because he isn't nothing to you_. It answered as if the ambiguous line explained everything - though the words held an ounce of truth, for Potter had always been something to Draco, whether foe or friend.

Draco looked up to find himself being watched with attentive green eyes. His eyes darted away in reaction, the heat in his face growing stronger and pooling into his cheeks. No amount of scolding could calm it down. Little impulses were telling him to reach out, touch him, his cheek, neck, shoulder, arm, anything to release the tension surging to his heart, lips and fingertips.

"Erm, well," Harry stammered in a notably shakier voice to how slurry and composed it had been before, "I think I should go find... find Ron." He turned to leave. The murmured suggestions in Draco's head turned into screams.

"Wait," he said, stopping Potter with a word, turning him around and holding him into motionless, expectant place.

***

"What is it?" Harry heard himself gabble; still slightly dazed from the Firewhisky he was still processing. He cringed inwardly. It was probably nothing, just another word or two, perhaps just a birthday greeting, but his heart seemed to be hoping otherwise - he really wished he could have more control over his actions around Draco.

He knew that it had been a bad idea coming to see Draco, especially whilst a bit drunk, but the drink fogging his brain had managed to convince him otherwise. Ever since Draco's first transformation, perhaps even before then, he had found himself starting to obsess over the youngest Malfoy. Dreams of pure-white wolves invaded his every dream, jumping and dancing and pouncing. Meanwhile, whilst he was awake, he couldn't help but think of the human Draco all the time and stare at him when he was around.

Harry knew what it meant, he wasn't that thick, but he didn't like the only conclusion that he could draw - he was attracted to Draco. More than his half-feelings for Ginny had been, more than he had been to Cho. And he didn't have a clue what to do about it, because he knew that it would be the last think on Draco's mind.

So that's why he didn't let his heart hope, he quashed its expectant whisperings before Draco even did anything. He just stood and waited.

***

Draco knew then exactly what to do. He let his body take the reins and lead him to where Harry was staring at him with a transfixed expression that mirrored his own. He then, slowly as a man reaching to a skittish animal that would either strike or flee, lifted his arms and laid them onto Potter's back, fingers lightly splayed. Sensing no immediate reaction of revulsion, he slid them further around, hands now parallel, and drew closer. Now he had to wait for Potter to respond, be it for better or worse.

This was the ultimate extension of friendship, more than the rejected handshake of first year ever was, even if it meant more to Draco than he suspected Potter would ever realise, could never realise if Draco was to keep his pride intact. He would just have to wait.

***

For a few moments Harry didn't know what to do. All he could think was: _Draco Malfoy is hugging me._

The Malfoy who had bullied his friends, made constant jokes at their expense, had sneered, snickered and jeered.

The Draco who had been turned into a werewolf, thrown out of the life he had known, made vulnerable to nearly everyone in the Wizarding World.

The Draco who had formed a truce with Harry, the Draco who had given him the quiet, unobtrusive company he had been craving, the Draco who had looked truly sorry at not having a gift for him on his birthday.

The Draco who was literally trying to reach out to him now.

Thinking of it that way, also considering the yearning to feel the body attached to the surprisingly warm hands on his lower back, how could Harry not return the embrace?

***

Feeling Potter press against him and putting his arms around Draco's own back made him sigh softly with pure pleasure. So this was what it felt like to be embraced - sure enough, he had hugged his mother before, had had Pansy hanging around his neck in her infuriating manner, but never anything like this, such an intimate gesture that sent thrills dashing up his spine and made his hands quiver.

He tightened his hold, taking the chance to feel Potter's jutting shoulder blades with hands growing more and more hesitant as he realized what he was doing. He was giving into his foolish desire, like a hapless Hufflepuff would, and embracing the object of his every want would just make it harder to ignore. Yet, now that he had started, he could not stop.

The sigh almost morphed into a moan when Potter laid his head on Draco's shoulder and he could feel his breath on his neck. Never had anything physical from another person felt so awkwardly wonderful before. Never had Draco felt awkwardly wonderful, besides.

With an extra push of daring, he pulled Potter closer until they were resting against one another almost head to toe, like two snakes about to intertwine. His legs were itching just to do that, part Potter's, step one forward to the side, anything to make their contact _more_, but he knew he could not go that far. The hug was teetering in meaning to more than just friendly as it was - firstly, Potter was drunk so probably didn't even realise there was a meaning to it and, secondly, there was no way he could reveal his desire further than this.

With a tremulous, consuming ache of the heart he understood distantly that now was the time to let go.

***

It could have lasted seconds or centuries, Harry couldn't tell, but after a time he was dragged out of the comfortable limbo he had been immersed in whilst in Draco's encompassing arms and was back into the cold, dark little world in comparison called Plant Earth.

With it came the thought: _that felt like more than a friendly hug._

But how could it possibly have been more than it really was, a friendly hug? He was clearly overreacting due to the alcohol in his system and the strange feelings he harboured for the boy still standing close to him, practically breathing in his air. It had simply been Draco's birthday present to him - the extension of a friendship they knew was already there, a gesture to make it final that they had put the past behind them.

It was not a lovers' embrace, it was a sign of friendship, no matter what Harry's body was telling him now, he noticed with mortification, in a completely embarrassing way. No matter what his heart was trying to tell him below all his denial, shame and confusion on the very idea of falling for Draco.

That just wasn't going to happen, so he would have to get over it by the time the morning came around, he promised himself whilst tearing his gaze away from the very person he was thinking about.

"I've got to go." He said, keeping his voice determinedly neutral, and began to walk away again. This time Draco didn't try to embrace him, though he couldn't help but entertain the stupid fantasy that he would.

"Potter?" He did, however, stop again to the sound of his voice.

"Yes?" He asked, not daring to turn around and be caught spellbound again.

"...Happy Birthday."

Harry did look around then, overwhelmed by something other than desire, and smiled.

"Thanks, Draco."

***

Draco watched him go, made sure the door was shut and locked before he hurriedly laid back onto his bed and contemplated his latest problem: the throbbing erection he knew would not go away by its own accord.

He reached into his trousers, breath quickening by the sensation, familiar to teenage boys, of a hand grazing the material and the taut skin it sheathed. Everything was so natural now, so practised even to a pristine boy like Draco, that he didn't need to think as he touched himself.

All he thought of was Potter, _Harry_ - Harry smiling that dazzling smile, Harry laughing, Harry gazing in awe at his birthday gifts, Harry noticing him, Harry visiting him, spending time with him. Harry leaning into his embrace, breathing against his neck-

He finished himself off swiftly, a bitten leap concealing the moan yearning to ring out into the silence, and rested his head back onto the pillow with a deep exhale of relief. He did not go to sleep straight away though - pristine boys always cleaned up afterwards...

***

Harry waited until Ron had gone to sleep before dealing with his dilemma, not wanting to embarrass him even when they were best friends and both did it sometimes.

Mostly he was wary in case he cried out the name so ready to roll off his tongue and caress through his lips. His favourite name in the world.

He wanted to make it quick and quiet, but it was tougher than it sounded as soon as he began. The combination of his cold hand against his hot skin and the various images of Draco assaulting his mind nearly undid him with a shout, but he held his lip with his teeth until it was nearly drawing blood, his neck straining and eyes wrenched shut.

_"...Happy Birthday."_

It was the look on Draco's face he saw after he uttered those words, those simple words, which took him over the edge. It had been such a perfect moment in a lifetime of imperfections and mistakes. It had been Draco as he had never seen him before - peaceful, happy, opened up. It had been magnificent.

Harry released his arched back and laid down on the bed, feeling boneless and spent, hardly gathering the strength to reach for a tissue and lazily clean himself up. Then he slept deeply and soundly, for the first night in a long while having no nightmares of tattered veils and what he had lost on the other side.

His sixteenth birthday had certainly been a celebration...

* * *

**A/N: Wow, that took a dirty turn at the end. I think I should put my rating up to M, don't you? XD**

**All the nicest flavours of Bertie Botts (not including ear wax, sorry) go to Merthurtilidie (Thank you! I was nervous about the transformation scene, I really wanted to get it right... and I always imagined Draco as a beautiful silver wolf ^^), Maurauder's Queen (The WolfDraco is like a character in his own right now XD I'm glad you like him!) Yana5 (very, very cute! It is Draco, after all, who is cute even if he doesn't admit it.) Josefin Tonks (I'll see what I can do... Draco is so stubborn sometimes :P) Msedward (Yep, I finally manned up enough to do the transformation scene! Whoo! Not that I am a man - you get what I mean :P) Arcus Pluvius (Yeah, I get quite scary in my Drarry obsession. I think my RL friends are getting tired of me, haha XD) Kenji (Hmm, I'm certainly tempted to have some Remus/Sirius past stuff, because I do love that pairing, but I'm not sure if it'll fit in or not whilst I'm writing...) miss quirky bookworm (I thought that bit was cute too :3 I really shouldn't be left to write about Harry and Draco, it's oh so tempting to make it all fluff...) Draco and Hermione is like PBJ (YOU'RE MY 100TH REVIEWER! HOORAY! You get extra e-love from the author :D - but please don't take Draco away! We need him for slashy action!) Josh (Thanks for reviewing! Personally, I've always loved Narcissa as a character.) (I know, I tend to write a lot of unresolved sexual tension - I can't help it, I just love it in Drarry! But look, they are slowly realising!)**

**Wow, my thanks are getting longer... that must be good! :D Thank you all for reading/subscribing/favouriting/reviewing! I reward you here with my longest chapter of the story so far!**


	17. Accusing

_Accusing_

Severus only allowed himself a small intake of breath to calm himself before walking close enough so that the doors to the dining room opened automatically and revealed him to his master, sitting on the most expensive and imposing chair in the large room.

On his sides sat his other faithful servants and Narcissa Malfoy, who had not been marked herself (for she had not been seen as strong and important enough) but whose home the Death Eaters were now operating in and had been ever since Draco had conveniently disappeared.

"Severus," the Dark Lord addressed him, red eyes piercing holes into him, "How pleasant of you to show up."

"My apologies for tardiness, my Lord," Severus said with a tone of guilt, though he knew that he was not a second a late, merely not as early as his compatriots were, sitting silent and frozen at the cold, foreboding dining table, eyes averted from everyone else, eyes full of the mistrust and fear they were trying to hide.

He could tell from the way the Dark Lord's eyes narrowed infinitesimally and the way his long, gaunt fingers linked together tightly that he was not completely appeased, which was troubling. Severus had done everything to ensure that he did not look like a part of the plot of helping Draco escape. Both he and Narcissa were talented Occlumens, so the betrayal could not be read from their thoughts even by someone as powerful as their Lord and he had already created a lie about members of the Order breaking in whilst the Manor's wards were not as well-maintained by Lucius (when in reality Narcissa worked on the wards mostly herself) and taking Draco in a bid to "save" him, which the Lord had even laughed at and labelled foolish Gryffindor ideals of compassion.

He would just have to wait for his Lord to speak on the matter and not to jump the wand himself, no matter how nervous he was feeling beneath the emotionless mask.

"Severus," he said his name again, alarmingly gently, playing with him, trying to scare him into blurting something out, "I have concerns."

"Concerns my Lord?" Severus remained determined to hold his gaze - looking away would be admitting a defeat that he couldn't afford.

"Yes," he hissed the word, his voice lowering even further until it was a malicious murmur, "about the Malfoy boy." He flickered Narcissa a look of contempt, as if blaming her for everything that happened with Lucius and what he was 'forced' to do to Draco in vengeance. Narcissa carried on gazing at the limp hands in her lap, her face drained and still.

"It appears," The Lord carried on, his voice slowly growing in volume to a guttural sort of whine that never failed to send shivers down the spine, "that some of his things have gone missing - such as a wash bag, extra clothing and books." He slammed his hands down, making everyone jump as far as their locked bodies would let them, even making Severus blink. "Why would kidnappers think of taking things like that?" His voice was still low, deadly.

Severus knew that it was a test designed to try and shake and throw him, test his composure. He had always been a professional when it came to lying and spying after all, so it wasn't tough to pass. The right lie sprang to his mind straight away and he didn't tear his eyes off the Lord - a sure sign of honesty to a talented Legilimens - as he explained calmly.

"I have a theory, my Lord," he said and elaborated when the man didn't prompt him, "I believe that kidnappers such as Albus Dumbledore and his soft-hearted underlings would think of such creature comforts - Dumbledore has never been disciplined in anything, even kidnapping."

He finished, still staring into the murderous red. The Lord made as if mull this over, his frail frame, hiding so much power, leaning back to the luxurious red velvet of the chair and his skeletal hands resting on the edge of the table, each long-nailed talon outlined to white by the black wood. He tapped them once on the table, causing everyone else present to flick a worried glance to them, wondering what he was going to do next. Severus never moved a centimetre.

"Correct." The Lord finally said and Severus would have sighed in relief if he had been foolish enough to. "Your answer is much better than anything these fools had to offer." Red eyes glared accusingly at everyone present, who cowered.

"Thank you my Lord," Severus said, allowing the gratefulness to slip into his voice, but not overdoing it like some of the others did - that would only earn scorn.

"Sit down," The Dark Lord said and Severus did, sitting slowly to the nearest chair which happened to be next to Narcissa's. The glance they exchanged was split-second, hardly there, but it existed. It was the code that Draco had survived the first full moon. A very small smile could even be seen on Narcissa's face, hidden by the shadow of her bowed head, throughout the rest of the meeting, which was more than could be said for all the other followers.

***

Harry woke that morning feeling the best he had in a long while, mind still filled with the heady thoughts of embrace and giddying desire. Ron even asked him why he was in such a good mood, smiling at the sight himself despite it being so early in the morning for him.

"Oh, nothing," Harry said in the exact tone he knew would infuriate him if anybody else had said it and made his way to the bathroom on their floor to shower and dress, clothing for the day tucked under his arm.

He was about to turn the handle when the door opened inwards, almost causing him to fall forwards, so immersed in pleasant thought was he, and he gathered his balance quickly and looked up only to want to fall over all again.

Draco was standing there, looking just as surprised, fresh out of the shower.

"P-Potter," he recovered quicker, "You're up earlier than usual."

"I guess I am," Harry replied stupidly and could have hit himself except that he wanted to spare himself further reason to feel embarrassed. The memory of the embrace itself, coated by the sheen of Firewhiskey, was fantastic - but facing Draco added a whole new quality of self-consciousness that he didn't know what to do about. Evidently Draco had more of a clue.

"The shower's all yours." He said and moved out of the way, sending a sweet fragrance washing over Harry that he couldn't quite place, but really wanted to. Draco appeared to notice the way his nostrils flared appreciatively and his chest rose deeply and smiled. "Here," he said, passing Harry a bottle of shower gel. "You can use it if you want."

Harry looked at the bottle for a second - it looked very posh, with a silver case decorated with swirling black writing and little drawn bubbles that rose up the outside and occasionally popped in an appealing way. It looked much more interesting than the Muggle stuff Harry usually used, if shower gel could be interesting.

"Right, well," he mumbled, "thanks." Then he fled to the bathroom before he could make more of an idiot out of himself. The bathroom smelt beautiful too - just like Draco had.

_I did not just put beautiful and Draco in the same sentence! It didn't happen!_

He quickly stripped off and turned on the water, which thankfully Mrs. Weasley had charmed to be automatically warm. Once under the showerhead he reached over for the bottle slowly, seeming as his glasses had been taken off and chucked onto the sink. He opened the bottle and the smell hit him again - it was rather nice, but there was something lacking about it this time, something that had made it that much better.

He lathered up, still wondering what was missing, but then he realised that it could have been the added subtle scent of Draco that had made it that bit different. It made sense - why would he be attracted to someone if he didn't like the way they smelled? Before he could stop himself images of Draco using the gel, spreading it through his fingers and over his torso flashed across his brain.

_Oh great..._ he thought, sorting out the second erection he'd had over the past day.

_I really need to stop this stupid crush before it gets out of control!_

***

Draco walked away from the bathroom and downstairs feeling strange - since when had he lent people his belongings? He couldn't ever remember it happening before. His stuff had always been _his_.

Entering the dining room he found Lupin, who didn't look as if he was going to sit down and wait for breakfast.

"Draco, I've been waiting to see you," he said, the words sounding ominous to Draco's ears for reasons he couldn't place, and Lupin gestured for him to sit down as he did.

"Why?" Draco said, not wishing to make small talk.

"Well," Lupin bit his lip and let it go, "I have to leave, so I won't be able to support you during transformations anymore."

"Oh," somehow the words hit him harder than he ever could have expected. Lupin, albeit annoying and poor, was the only person who truly understood what he was going through as a wolf and he could ask him anything about it. He felt like he was losing a lifeline.

"I'm sorry," Lupin carried on, not just putting on fake guilt, "but I have something I need to do... for the Order. I put it off when I was asked to look after you, but I can't postpone it any longer."

"I see." Draco tried not to sound hurt, which was exactly how he felt, stupid as it was.

"I will try to get back and check on your progress as soon as I can," Lupin said, "but it could be months. That's why I'm going to talk you through some things now."

He went on to explain about how things were going to be arranged for him at Hogwarts, how he should act towards the other students (completely neutrally if he could manage it) and who to trust and not trust with the matter. It was all valuable information, but Draco only swallowed it and did not look further into it. He was losing somebody he could still fleetingly trust.

Then Lupin stood and did something Draco hadn't expected - he put a hand on each of his shoulders and drew him close, the embrace that his own father had never given him. Before he could think about it he found himself lightly placing his arms on the man's back and even drawing comfort from the warmth it produced. It only lasted a few seconds before they let go and Lupin, Remus, said his farewells before walking out the door.

It had not felt anything like the embrace with Harry, but it had been significant in itself and almost as awkward yet gratifying. He sat down again feeling distinctly lost and detached, hands steadying him on the table.

He hardly heard the door open and someone sit down next to him.

"Anybody home?" He heard Harry's - Potter's - Harry's voice cut through the mental inertia and he looked up to find green eyes startlingly close. He wondered what they would look like without the glasses in front of them.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked another question, now concerned, when Draco made no reply. "You look a bit out of it."

"Lupin's left," he said the first thing that came to mind and Harry nodded.

"Yeah, he mentioned it to me last night at dinner."

Draco couldn't even be bothered to feel the jealousy edging around him and trying to get under his skin, it was so pathetically irrational. So Lupin had known Harry longer and had mentioned it to him a few hours earlier. Big deal.

He sniffed lightly, not knowing what to say to the comment, when a smell hit his nostrils. It was a familiar smell, a smell he knew well, but with a twist. He could smell it from Harry, his skin, his still lightly damp yet already messy hair. It was all he could muster not to lean in and breathe in that even lovelier than usual smell of lime and mandarin mixed with Harry's natural scent.

"Um, what are you doing?" Harry asked worriedly and Draco realized he really was leaning in, closing the already small space separating them. Though he wasn't exactly backing away in revulsion, so Draco didn't see the harm in leaning just that little bit closer, his whole mind was willing him to anyway-

"Morning," he heard the Weasel's offensive voice from the doorway and dragged himself away, feeling utterly interrupted. The King of the Weasels slumped down on Harry's other side giving them both glares that Draco ignored, but it appeared that Harry didn't have the common sense to when it came to his redheaded friend.

"What's up Ron?" He asked and the Weasel huffed, really making a meal of it.

"Nothing," he said, "we can talk about it later." He looked pointedly at Draco and Harry sighed but didn't pass disappointed comment like the lately pro-Malfoy Granger probably would have, odd as that was.

All the other sleepy residents of the house ambled down to breakfast and Mrs. Weasley levitated the food onto the table. Draco watched the platter of bread rolls and happened to notice one wobble before it began falling. He reached out to catch it, seeing it almost in slow motion as it flew to his grasp, and smiled at the small triumph. Then time sped up again.

"Bloody hell!" He heard the Weasel and turned around to see what he was blathering on about now. Apparently it was Draco himself. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" He said, feigning innocence and dropping the roll onto a spare plate.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, clearly confused and wanting to know what was going on.

"It's Malfoy, he just-"

"Ron," Hermione said in a loud, clear voice, "could you pass me a plate please?"

Ron raised his eyebrows and gesticulated madly in reply. "But Hermione, his arm was like a blur-"

"Preferably now, Ron," Granger said coolly. Draco felt oddly grateful, even though it went against every Malfoy moral that he had. He didn't even mind having a hand in passing along the plate.

***

It seemed that after breakfast Ron was ready to talk about what was bothering him as he lead Harry into the empty lounge and sat down, waiting for Harry to as well. There was an oddly formal atmosphere, which Harry had never felt around his best friend before - he sat down guardedly, waiting to see what he would say, and remained quiet.

"What is he to you?" Ron asked finally, the question almost knocking the breath out of Harry as his mind raced, trying to grab the right answer before it flew by.

_What does he mean, what is he to you? Does he sense the way I've been feeling? What does he think about it? Will he be mad at me?_

"Is he your friend or not, Harry?" Ron asked again and Harry could have sighed in relief.

"Yes," he said honestly, "we are friends now." He saw no point in lying about that - he had made it clear that he was going to try and improve his standing with Draco from the start of their truce, as was Hermione though Draco wasn't responding as well to her offer of friendship.

"I see," Ron said glumly, with none of his usual passion. Harry suddenly understood why he would be so bothered about it - on their very first day of school Draco had competed with Ron for Harry's friendship. Perhaps now Ron felt like he was losing the fight, which he thought he had won forever.

"We're still best mates though, right?" He prompted, though he knew that Ron was the one doubting it more than him.

"Of course," Ron was smiling now and Harry smiled back. He really couldn't imagine not being best friends with Ron, no matter how many other friends he had. "I dunno why I was even worried about it, seeing you earlier..."

Harry froze again. "Seeing what?"

"Well, when you got up this morning you woke me up and I was going to ask you something, I can't remember what, so I went out onto the landing. I saw you talking to him and well..."

"Erm, well?" Harry's voice had gone a few tones higher than usual in his nervousness.

"Well, you seemed so at ease around each other. Not fighting at all. It just shocked me how different you are around one another now, that's all. You seem... close." Ron shrugged off the seriousness of the comment, clearly having gotten over it now that he knew their friendship wasn't in danger. Harry wasn't over it.

"_You seem... close."_

_Oh Merlin, _he thought frantically_, even Ron's noticed it and he's not very perceptive, in fact he'd never consider the thought that there could be more to it than that, at least on my part. But if Hermione ever noticed..._

_I'd be done for._

_***_

Ron watched Harry leave hurriedly; he was clearly worrying over something that had just popped into his head. Ron knew better than to question him about it until he was ready to talk, whatever it was.

He sat back, pondering himself though much more languidly. He supposed it had something to do with Draco, seeming as they had been talking about him. He would have to ask Hermione for her opinion later. She was so much better with those sort of things...

* * *

**A/N: Wow... I feel like I'm on a roll XD well, at least that was the quickest update I've had in a while. I thought it was about time we had some good old Snape stuff and some more token Drarry awkwardness, just because I love it!  
**

**I also love how quickly you lot are reviewing! All these people should be in the Slug Club for being awesome: Merthurtilidie (Thank you so much! Yep, Draco's just too into cleanliness :P) Yana5 (Oh, how I wish a hug from Draco was possible! Let's get someone to dress up as him... I did once...)TeamJasper1 (The hug was hot?! Yay! I wanted it to be a sexual hug :P) realityfling18 (thank you for the multiple reviews!) Draco and Hermione is like PBJ ("Who would want a cherry when you can have Drarry?" - I absolutely love that!) Msedward (Nyes, the boys are being rather slow. Let's poke them with a stick for encouragement!) Arcus Pluvius (I'm glad I make you feel special! :D) Nameless Little Girl (thank you!) WillyBizzy (See? I am keeping going! XD) GiselleMarx (Thank you so much! Your comment made me smile!) chibibozu (Cheers! :D I'm glad you're enjoying it) and rebelwilla (thank you very much - I got a capital awesome and everything!)**

**p.s. Crack Moment of Concern No.1: **"Severus," he said his name again, alarmingly gently, playing with him, trying to scare him into blurting something out, "I have concerns." **Could this be seen as sexual? XD As 'nice' as Snape/Voldemort fanfiction sounds...**

**Crack Moment of Concern No.2:** Then Lupin stood and did something Draco hadn't expected - he put a hand on each of his shoulders and drew him close... **all right, who thought he was going to rape him, hmm? :P**


	18. Dreaming

_Dreaming_

He couldn't really remember exactly when the nightmares had begun, the bad dreams, but they started off blurry and indistinct, like looking at a deliberately fogged memory in a pensieve. He could only see looming shadows with no identity, hear muffled words that soon turned to screams, before he would wake up in a cold sweat.

Then they started to gain clarity and with that Draco lost more and more sleep over the next few days. He had never suffered from dreams like these before, more often than not he never dreamt at all during slumber, but now as soon as his eyes closed terrifying images began to play up in his head.

In all but the first he was Lupine. The first was an accurate replay of what he had suffered at the claws of Greyback, the excruciating bite retold in vivid, unrelenting colour. It was like the first dream was designed to wear him in for the days of worse ones that would follow.

Then he was wolf. He dreamt that he was prowling Malfoy Manor, the wards still letting him through because of his only half-sullied blood heritage, yet he was not afraid because the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters were not there, only the mother and father of his past.

He slammed into the grand front doors, knocking them off their hinges until they swayed to the floor with a loud crash. This would immediately alert his parents to his presence. Why they never went to the emergency Disapparation point and escaped he didn't know. They always rushed into the hall, calling his name, yet they were looking upstairs, not to the wolf in front of them, haunches raised and ready to pounce. They had probably forgotten him now, after all.

Then he did pounce, with the swift grace of a practised killer, filled with resentment, and first down went his father. He felt all his anger fill into the flying sprays of blood and his father's gasps of pain. Then he turned to his mother, who was still calling for him up the stairs, not meeting his monster's eye. She was still calling, "Draco, Draco" as he pinned her down and bit her around the neck. Blood obscured her desperate pleas into nothing.

Then, instinctively, he prowled up the stairs and thumped the door open that led to what used to be his bedroom. There was a boy sleeping in his bed. In fact, it was Draco himself at, say, ten or eleven years old, still relatively innocent and even more so in sleep, dead to the world.

Then the boy woke and, unlike the un-reactions of his parents, the boy's eyes overflowed with fear as he began to scream at Draco. The wolf silenced him in the only way he knew, once again plundering his innocence and ruining it quicker than his father and Greyback ever could have done. The dream ended just as he left his own bloody corpse on the bed, twisted and grotesque.

This would usually fade into another dream and this time he was prowling the dark streets of Diagon Alley, which oddly were filled with people he knew and some that he liked, loved even. Crabbe and Goyle, loyal to him for so long, could not fight him off with their strength as he took them both down and killed them in a twisted kind of gratitude. Pansy Parkinson, screaming and whining at him to stop in a desperate voice as he ripped her open. Blaise Zabini, eyes dark and reproachful as he silently died under Draco's jaws. Professor Snape, his own godfather, unable to stop him even with his powerful wand, went down on the already blood-slicked pavement almost noiselessly as he bled to his death, mangled and torn.

Draco would carry on like this, not pausing to think about the horrific consequences, as he steadily killed everyone there. Dumbledore, who had so kindly given him shelter where death would have been the only other option, Lupin, who had taught him so much, Mrs. Weasley, who had not turned him away and judged him the way he had judged her, Granger, who had been graceful enough to call a truce into play, the Weasel, who had even tried to tolerate him.

There was just one person missing, thought his feverish wolf-brain, someone he needed to taste, to maim, and to kill...

The dream would usually switch again at this point, the final stage. This one was still not fully developed, both tantalizing and relieving in its blurriness, and Draco could only feel himself prowling on all fours as he climbed the stairs of Grimmauld Place as he had done frequently in human form over the past few weeks.

There was someone there, upstairs, that he had to add to his collection of the dead. He mounted onto the landing, seeing the outline of the door, his bloodied muzzle nudging it open and calculating eyes sweeping across the small, dark room. His own room. Two people were there, sleeping in his bed. No, he corrected himself as one seemed to fade away, just one person. Just one more to kill.

He jumped onto the bed, pinning the victim down, who awoke and merely looked at him, bright eyes clear through the shadows and obscurity. "Don't do this..." the person said, not pleadingly but calmly, no fear of him there at all. "You're better than this."

The wolf Draco would pause, the Draco of muted thought screaming for him to stop, please, not this one, especially not this one, but then instinct would win over mercy. The wolf struck, struck again and again...

Draco would wake up then with a muffled scream, unable to go back to sleep. Not after that.

***

Harry couldn't just keep quiet and watch after he saw Draco that morning. He looked a complete mess - his eyes were dull with exhaustion, the bags under his eyes dark grey and ghostly in their prominence on his paler-than-usual face. Even his hair looked a bit matted, which Harry had _never _seen before.

He followed him into the study after breakfast and it was a miracle in itself that Ron or Hermione didn't follow him in as they usually did each morning. He didn't think that Draco would want them there, if he even wanted Harry there.

He found Draco sitting in his usual place, on the squashy sofa, his body seeming to fold into it with so little strength to hold it into place. He didn't even look up and stare challengingly as Harry entered, which, even now, would have been the usual fair (Harry didn't get too offended about it - he knew Draco was just protecting himself in the ways he still could.)

Harry sat down next to him and didn't give pause before he spoke. "Is it about Lupin?" Draco's tiredness had begun around the time he had left, the day after the first transformation.

"No," Draco replied distractedly - Lupin had almost faded to the back realms of his conscience once the nightmares had taken hold. No, now Lupin was just a corpse featuring in his dreams, no longer a real person. He just couldn't think of him as real - it was hard enough seeing the residents of the house after dreaming them dead.

"Then what's stopping you sleeping?" Harry asked and gave Draco the time to answer.

"I've been having some unsavoury dreams, Potter," Draco tried to sound mocking, but it didn't quite work out, "so I've been having trouble sleeping."

"So... you've been having nightmares?" Harry asked, remembering how easy it was to offend Draco as he sent Harry a withering look.

"No, Potter, not nightmares. I'm not a child any more. Just bad dreams."

Harry thought about how soon school would be starting and how Draco would really need the energy for everything that going back would entail for him.

"You need to sleep, Draco."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious. So how do you propose I go about getting more of that?" It seemed Draco was too tired to carry on with the withering looks, no matter how sceptical his quiet voice sounded. He was staring off into the distance again.

"That's what I was thinking," Harry said, "Um... what sort of things do you dream about?"

"That's personal, Potter." The answer Harry had been expecting.

"Okay. When do they start?"

Draco sighed. "As soon as I'm asleep, idiot." It was starting to become irritating, but Harry understood that Draco was just trying to protect his dignity, therefore was unwilling to go into any sort of detail.

"Well," he carried on calmly, "you remember the dreams, so it's natural to start anticipating them before you go to sleep, right? That can't be helping anything."

"I suppose." Draco felt somewhat miffed to have this pointed out to him - he pinned it on his lack of experience with such weaknesses as nightma- bad dreams.

"So... when do you start thinking about them?" Harry wasn't fazed by Draco's sour look, so he decided to divulge him a bit. He searched around for something to say and, recklessly, said the first thing that came to mind. He didn't even control how he said it.

"When I'm alone." The words themselves, even without the help of Draco's anxious frown, could have melted a heart of stone, so naturally Harry was a goner.

"I'll stay with you," he blurted out the comment before actually thinking about it and what it meant.

"You... what?" For once Draco felt speechless. He thought about the only available bed in the room, his double, and back to Harry, flabbergasted. He ignored the rising feeling of excitement and anticipation the wolf was sending through him in waves. Surely he couldn't have meant that?

"I mean," Harry gabbled, realising the mistake, "I'll sit on the chair until you fall asleep so you're not alone and then I'll completely leave and go to my own bed, unless you need me then you can come in and wake me, which is fine because Ron's a really heavy sleeper-"

"Potter," Draco just looked amused now, "I understand."

"Okay," Harry breathed again, "so should I stay this evening?" He couldn't help but feel the rising flush creeping up his neck at the simple connotations that could have been attached to that particular line.

He watched as Draco also turned a delicate shade of pink, which oddly suited him, and couldn't tear his eyes away though he knew that the staring probably wasn't exactly helping Draco to make a decision.

"If you must," Draco replied stiffly, as if he were granting Harry a favour. It was just another way of protecting his pride, but it was still annoying. Harry still let it pass.

"Right," he turned to active mode then, getting up off the low sofa, "I'll be there after dinner then." He opened the study door. "Don't worry, I'll knock," he added, though he always did, and left.

_You know you wouldn't really mind him sleeping in your bed..._

_Shut up wolf._

_But-_

_Just shut up._

***

They hardly spoke, he and Draco, for the rest of the day, made as busy as they were by Mrs. Weasley's latest assignments. Harry and Ron had finished off cleaning that cabinet they had started a week or two before, though this time Harry had secretly slipped something into a separate bag to the ones eventually going into storage, for reasons he couldn't say to anyone.

Then they had sat next to one another at dinner, as they always did, and quietly ploughed through a delicious lasagne. Draco, as always in one of his astonishing ways, ate more than even Ron did!

After dinner they had briefly parted ways, Harry supposing that he may as well get comfortable in pyjamas and a dressing gown to keep him warm, and borrowed one of Ron's old Quidditch annuals to flick through. Though evidently Draco had other plans.

"Let's play chess." He piped up and Harry noticed that an expensive looking chess set, the board appearing to be made of strong, shining glass, was set up on the small table in between Draco's chair and another he had evidently asked somebody, probably Mrs. Weasley, to conjure up for him. It was a pleasant surprise and Harry readily agreed - he had read that Quidditch annual three times already, after all.

So they played chess, mostly in silence though of an amicable time. This was what had caused Harry to like Draco in the first place - his lack of the habitual need to fill in silences that most people had, his usually quiet and lightly sarcastic tone of voice, his serene companionship. It was the thing that Harry had needed at first, to get away from all the people asking him about Sirius, but now it had grown to more than that - it was something that he wanted, too.

An hour or two passed quickly as they played, Draco winning more games than Harry (who had never been a good chess player), though Draco only acknowledged this with satisfied smirks that Harry had grown used to over the time they had spent together. He had even grown to be fond of them.

Then he had noticed how tired Draco was getting again, how he could barely keep his eyes open, and suggested that he tried to go to bed. Draco raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he got up and lightly stretched his shoulders before walking over to the bed, pulling back the covers and practically melting into the mattress with a small sigh as he lay down and turned away from Harry. He was too tired to argue, but evidently not too exhausted to remember to ignore him.

Harry had picked up the Quidditch manual then, trying to concentrate on the page about the Chudley Cannons as his ears were filled with the soothing sound of Draco's slowing breaths, turning deeper and longer as he fell asleep. It was a nice feeling, knowing that he was now comfortable to fall asleep with Harry in the room, though perhaps it was because he was just too knackered to stay awake.

A few minutes later the breathing grew more erratic and Harry swore he could hear whispering. He laid the manual down on the other chair, quietly, and watched Draco for a little while. When he began shaking and talking, voice filled with desperation, Harry had to get up and go over to him. It reminded him too much of how he was when he had nightmares.

He shook him lightly and Draco jolted awake, gasping and mumbling something like "Please, not him..." Then his eyes focussed and he jerked his head back. "Potter?"

"Yes, it's me." Harry said, feeling self-conscious now of the hand still on Draco's shoulder. He quickly took it away. "You were having a bad dream."

"Yes..." Draco stared into space, thinking, repeated himself "yes I was."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Harry thought that Draco must have still been half-asleep, because he actually answered. "There are different ones. Firstly I'm being bitten by Greyback." He closed his eyes and spoke in a low murmur. "Then I'm the wolf, I'm biting. I'm killing everyone. First it's my parents and myself. Then it's everyone I know, except for... then it's someone I can't see... but I really don't want to."

He blinked, looking more awake now. "I suppose that doesn't make much sense." He commented with a sudden wryness that managed to make Harry laugh unexpectedly.

"You're tired, that's all." He replied. "Just remember..." he dropped his gaze, feeling embarrassed just thinking the words, "remember that the dreams aren't real. It's not really you doing those things."

"You don't understand," Draco said in a fit of what felt like teenage angst, then tried to explain further. "I am capable of doing those things now. I can turn into that monster."

Harry bit his lip. "That is true, but it doesn't mean that you can't try to prevent it in every way possible. That's what the Wolfsbane is for." Seeing Draco calm down slightly at this, eyes dulling as he listened, he continued. "Plus, if you ever do forget the Wolfsbane, Merlin forbid, I'll personally go after you and stop you, okay?"

Draco let out a breath of amused laughter through his nose, "I can imagine that. You need to bother learning some spells to stun me with first, though, Potter. Expelliarmus won't work on wolves."

Harry wasn't finished being serious yet, though. "Draco," he caught the other boy's attention again, "just remember that you're not the monster you see in your dreams. You're better than that."

The words reflected the ones at the end of his dream it was spooky - then suddenly it clicked. Harry really was the person speaking those words to him: _You're better than this. _It was a secretly comforting thought that Harry thought that, even if what he had said was inescapably Gryffindor and excessively emotional.

He clung onto this piece of calm floating amongst a sea of fear as he drifted back to sleep; still sure that Harry was still there by the feel of his elbow resting on the bed, lightly pulling the duvet covering his chest. It was a few hours before the pressure of it was taken away and Draco was sleeping too deeply and soundly to notice.

***

For it was only a week and a bit before the school year commenced, a trip to Diagon Alley was organised to gather all the necessary equipment everyone needed. The former fifth years had received their O.W.L. results that morning, which Harry hadn't even been thinking about, there had been so much else on his mind.

He was mostly pleased about his results - the Outstanding he had received in Defence Against the Dark Arts had been wonderful and his worst grade, a Dreadful in History of Magic, was understandable because of the vision he had been hit with halfway through. The only grade he was worried about was Potions - he knew that Snape only accepted Oustanding students for N.E.W.T levels, and he only got an Exceeds Expectations. Well, that was his idea of being an Auror out of the window...

Hermione should have been more thrilled than she was, Harry thought personally, for she got all Outstandings except for an Exceeds Expectations in Defence. Ron had done all right, given that he had never been very studious, and was going to carry on in relatively similar subjects to Harry, given his fierce loyalty and his aforementioned lack of interest in most things academic.

He didn't yet know how Draco had done in his O.W.L.s; he had taken the unopened letter to his room to look at on his own. Harry thought it fair enough - it was hard to keep the results secret with the Weasley twins almost immediately prising them from you to take a look.

In fact, they were trying to cheer up Hermione right now.

"Don't be so silly!" Fred said from one of her sides as she bit her lip, scanning over the grades for the fiftieth time.

"We'd never get those kind of grades between us!" George piped up from the other side, grabbing her form and waving it above her. Hermione made as if to protest, but the twins spoke too quickly.

"Even if there were ten of us we wouldn't-"

"- Be a patch on you!"

"So, mate," Ron said, "looking forward to getting out of the house for a day? I sure am."

Harry nodded in agreement - he had been feeling claustrophobic, cooped up in Grimmauld place for weeks on end. The night before alone had been surreal enough that he needed some time outside to take his mind off it.

He couldn't quite believe how long he had stayed in Draco's room last night, making sure that he didn't wake up again. He couldn't help but feel now that it could be seen as a little creepy, watching someone sleep, but Draco had permitted him to be there after all and he _hadn't _been doing it for creepy reasons. He was still thankful that Ron was such a heavy sleeper - otherwise there would have been some extremely awkward explaining to do and Ron probably would have gotten the wrong idea.

He brought his thoughts back to the present as he dressed in Wizarding robes for the first time since before the summer holidays had started. He was going to be wearing his invisibility cloak anyway, but just in case it was somehow taken off he would look less conspicuous in robes than jeans and a t-shirt. Mrs. Weasley had done simple charms to turn his hair a light brown and lengthen it and colour his eyes a light blue for the exact same reasons, though the magically cursed scar unfortunately couldn't be altered.

Everyone was getting into the Ministry borrowed car now, which Mr. Weasley had been able to procure for the afternoon after much asking, and somebody was calling his name from within the house to get going. He briefly looked upstairs, thinking about Draco being alone there for a few hours, nobody but the delusional Kreacher for company, but he really needed to get out and also he needed to get some money out of his vault and it was the only day he could.

He still felt guilty as he left.

* * *

**A/N: I thought I ought to have mentioned the O.W.L. results from what I remember off the top of my head - I only remembered to include them earlier today! (How I acheive even basic plot continuity I don't know, I'm such a scatterbrain.) And that was quite fluffy in places, I know, full of scarcely hidden crack elements that I will ask you to forgive me for (Ah, the bad dream, the fan fiction writer's best friend!) This was a bit of a gift to myself really - I love fluff!**

Many, many extremely loud exclamations of gratitude (sorry if I burst your eardrums, it's a token of my endearment, really) to **Yana5** (me too, Yana, me too, it will happen eventually!) **Merthurtilidie** (Don't worry, we all fall victim to those kinds of thoughts :P especially me, I thought about it in the first place! I'm glad someone likes the UST apart form me! XD) **egoXlockheart** (Harry and Draco are proper English gentlemen, of course they'll get hot around the collar about a hug :P and I'm sorry! I'm going as fast as is believable (in my mind)!) **rebelwilla** (Nyes, Harry's a tad slow but he'll get there :P) **Nameless Little Girl** (Thanks!) **Of Wolves** (I think my whole life is a crack moment of concern :P and seriously, good Snape/Voldemort? I've never seen any :P) **Black Angel 50** (I plan to continue! Yay!) **ninjadragons** (Thanks for the review! I have to say that the idea of wolf mates doesn't particularly appeal to me, I just reckon they've always been attracted to one another but are very slow to realise it :P) **JustLooney** (Sorry, no crack moments for this chapter. It appears I'm having a relatively normal day :P I'm glad you like the story!) **George-is-a-girl **(Update right here! Is George really a girl?) **HufflePuffWitch** (Thanks very much! :D) **Imperial Mint** (Whoo, multiple reviews! I give you multiple thank you's in return! (thankyouthankyouthankyou.) Yes, life has a tendency of doing that... and have you seen the amount of exclamation marks I have in my A/Ns? They're everywhere!!! Also, on the whole mutual wank thing - my thoughts exactly! And I loved your pig/dinosaur rant XD In fact, I have many more things to say, but I'll shut up. p.s. I don't think you're crazy, I think you sound similar on sanity-levels to me :P) **Ex Mentis** (Tell me about it! I love the awkward moments! They make slash fics for me.) **kiskool** (cheers me dears! weird British saying, in case you're not British or something.) **CollaneR **(Thank you very much! That was a wonderful review - I'm glad you like the story, it makes me so happy! XD) **Kokoro50** (I think you are straight to the point :P but I like UST too much, sorry! Stuff will happen eventually, I assure you.) **SilverBlood7884** (Thanks for reviewing! And sorry, but I don't see myself writing a Voldie/Sev fic. Ever. :P) **miss quirky bookworm** (Who knows how the minds of Ron and Draco really work? Nobody, not even J.K. I don't think. They're just people in their own right.) **Arcus Pluvius **(The feeling is mutual - reviews make me feel special! And I have no idea when they'll kiss... I plan nothing, seriously :P) **Ella1331** (Thanks for reviewing! I can't wait to _write_ their first kiss! :D)

**Wow, that took a little while. I don't care - I love all you reviewers too much not to comment back! I bolded you so you can find yourselves :D Also, big thanks to all my readers in general and subscribers too!**


	19. Liking

_Liking_

For once a trip to Diagon Alley was uneventful. On the way there Harry had been under invisibility cloak and had remained so for most of the journey possible, so that anyone who could have been watching out for him would be less likely to catch a glimpse. In fact, he had only surfaced to get money out of his Gringotts' vault and to get new fitted robes from the mostly unassuming Madame Malkin. Harry wondered what Draco was going to do about robes.

Everything else either Hermione or Mrs. Weasley had purchased for him, Hermione only looking a bit odd as she got double copies of the books both she and Harry needed for that year (Mrs. Weasley, having been informed of what Draco needed, got his.)

"Just in case one copy got ruined," Hermione explained in a sheepish voice to the sales assistant in Flourish and Blotts (who looked thoroughly offended at the idea of any book being ruined. Harry knew that Hermione would be horrified too, but she had to keep her act up.)

The effect of the Voldemort's return was really starting to show - some shops were closing, hastily boarded up and abandoned, and the windows of Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlour had been smashed. Even Ollivander, the strange yet nice enough wand-maker, had cleared out and left, which was unbelievable - Harry's stomach turned, thinking about where he could have gone.

As if the wanted posters, still up and showing the insane-looking Death Eaters with Bellatrix at the forefront, wasn't enough to make him feel sick.

Everyone came back to Grimmauld Place in low spirits - the trip out of there, even to the now dishevelled Diagon Alley, had been a breath of fresh air all too quickly taken away and replaced with the familiar feeling of stank closeness. Harry trudged up the stairs, invisibility cloak stashed in one of the carrier bags he had lining his arms, and laid half of them on his bed with a sigh. The next idea to fill his head was immediate and almost predictable, though he didn't want to admit it.

He knocked on the door to Draco's room, knowing that he would be there both hiding away from everyone and waiting for someone to come in.

"Come in," Draco's words echoed his thoughts and he opened the door, half the bags intended for Draco still on his arms and wanting to drag them down to the floor in surrender. "Oh, let me help," Draco said, getting up and taking a few of the burdening weights from his sore hands. Harry was so distracted by their sudden proximity that he didn't even notice for a while how out of character that small show of altruism had been.

Then he was distracted again as he remembered the way he had last seen Draco - his vulnerable, sleeping face made peaceful by Harry's words. Their conversation, how serious and personal it had been. No wonder why Draco was acting so polite and cautious - he just wasn't used to opening up in that way.

He watched mutedly for a few minutes whilst Draco deposited the bags on his bed and started looking through them, methodically placing his books, quills and other supplies on the bed and checking them over with a blank, calculating eye. Then Draco turned to him and looked back, his expression cautious but confused. Harry stopped staring then and made himself useful - he put the rest of the bags on the bed, careful to walk the other side of it to where Draco was, and explained what was in them.

"Well, there's some more parchment and ink, some more books..." he trailed off as Draco took everything out again, silently, and sifted through the books. They both paused as Draco picked up one called _How to Cook the Muggle Way! A Beginners' Guide._ "I think that was meant for Mrs. Weasley." Harry said awkwardly - he was sure Mrs. Weasley wouldn't make a mistake like that, she was too organised.

"Yes." Draco said stiffly, putting it back down swiftly, as if the book was searing the skin of his hands, away from the other books. "Thanks," he added, glancing at Harry momentarily until his gaze skittered away to the things on the bed, all neat and new.

"No problem." Harry said lightly, hoping that would lighten up the atmosphere, but that was in vain. They had never had this problem so badly before, this mutual feeling of unbearable awkwardness, but Harry realized it was because they'd never talked about anything serious before about Draco. If it was about Harry it wouldn't have been so bad, but this way Draco felt like matters were out of control, something Harry knew out of experience he hated. Unexpectedly, an answer to the problem popped into his head.

"I have bad dreams too, you know," he said, causing Draco to stare at him, eyes widening slightly, but Harry endeavoured, "All the time. That's why I thought I could... help you out with it. Because I've had them before."

As he had hoped, Draco looked a bit more empowered than the lost little boy he had looked like before. "Really, Potter? I thought you'd be too busy loving yourself to have nightmares."

_Oh, so my bad dreams can be called nightmares, can they?_ Harry thought, but more with amusement than bitterness. _Once you get used to Draco's odd ways, he's not so bad._

"You'd think that," he humoured him whilst choosing a chair to sit in, "but I haven't exactly had the most... peaceful life." It was strange how easy it was, talking to him about it, even when he knew that Draco would joke sarcastically about it. Through Draco's smirk he could see the interest sparking in his eyes as he listened. Harry went through it briefly, not once mentioning Sirius (as was the golden rule to his life now) but other dreams he had in the past. The dreams about Cedric, which he could just open up about now, amongst others.

"I see," Draco commented after Harry had finished talking. Then he sent Harry a mischievous glance, "well that's just pathetic Potter, nightmares at your age. Grow up!"

Harry laughed, half because he was relieved that things weren't so awkward and then just because it was funny. Draco joined in, adding harmony, and the laugh rose, reached out to both of them, before it bowed gracefully to the quiet contentedness it had imparted on the two boys. Harry felt unafraid to look at Draco then, remember his vulnerability and even cherish it because he had shown that humanness to Harry, when before he had ultimately tried to keep his cold distance. He still picked up on the fluttering hopefulness in his heart with anxiety.

_He sees me as a friend, _he reminded himself quickly_, and I can't ruin this trust by letting my own feelings get in the way. He needs me as a friend, no matter how I may want him._

"Do you want me to stay in this evening?" He asked, taking opportunity of their ease and distracting himself. He needed to be there as a friend.

_***_

Draco woke that morning feeling rested with underlining tremor of pure energy he knew would take him through the day. It really had been a good idea, mentioning to Harry about his dreams - if anything Harry was a good problem solver. A good friend too, he admitted, not able to stop the little smile that spread through his lips. Two nights because of his confession he had slept deeply and almost dreamlessly, his fears turned back to being blurry and discreet in the back of his head.

Because of such confessions, of which Draco had little personal experience, they would grow closer in a way that Draco had never thought possible since Harry had rejected his hand in kinship all those years back. He was picking up on a lost opportunity - and Harry? He was seeing sides to Draco that nobody had seen before, which Draco viewed to be a precious gift in itself, cautiously given.

Thoughts of this kind filled his head with a heady softness until a knock came on his door just before it opened slightly and a pleasantly familiar head, surrounded by long ginger hair, appeared.

"Happy Birthday, Draco dear!" She sang out merrily and Draco blinked. Happy Birthday? Was it really the eight of August already, a day that every year prior to this one he had surely remembered with focused impatience?

"It's my birthday?" He asked, trying to will wakefulness into his voice. Mrs. Weasley laughed jovially.

"Of course it is! I checked with Severus, after all..."

That put all his doubts at rest - Severus had always been scarily accurate at remembering dates. Mrs. Weasley was probably caring enough to ask him when this particular one would be.

"Come on then," she beckoned to the doorway, "your birthday breakfast is almost ready..." she disappeared with another giddy laugh, that was just how cheerful she was. Draco supposed that any celebration was something in a time so filled with sadness as was a time impending warfare and death. It made the day seem that much more precious to him too, even if it was just the passing of another year.

He showered and dressed quickly, finding himself looking forward to his birthday in a way he had not before - usually his mind was filled with all the expensive presents he would be receiving, but this year, as it had proved to be so far, was different. There was nothing particularly remarkable about his new age - sixteen - but it was the revelation that he was still _alive_, after all he had suffered recently, and he planned to carry on doing so far as long as he could, half-beast or no.

He then descended the stairs quickly yet quietly, more cat than wolf he thought to himself, and then slowed down and smoothed his hair lightly before entering the dining room. There he found the table filled with the usual morning suspects, but also his godfather, who he sat next to straight away - surprisingly, it didn't feel so much like two Slytherins mentally fighting against a bigger number of Gryffindors.

"Happy Birthday," Severus said in his stoic way, but Draco could see the happiness lighting his usually dark and cold eyes. The emotion was there but it took an expert in the man's minute expressions, as Draco happened to be through experience, to recognize it.

"Thank you." Draco replied, giving him a small smile before turning to survey the spread of food in front of him. "Pancakes, excellent." He really did love pancakes - had that been a lucky guess on Mrs. Weasley's part, or had she extracted more information from Severus? He made a mental note that he had to ask her to teach him how to make them. He then firmly shoved images of Harry discovering the cookery book to the back of his mind; _Potter doesn't have to know the truth on that one._

Mrs. Weasley bustled in with an extra bottle of maple syrup and sat down next to her daughter, who was busy chatting to one of the twins. She beamed at Draco. "I hope you like it, dear."

"Very much, Mrs. Weasley, thank you." He said politely in response, but not just out of being polite - he found himself truly appreciating the food more than he had ever done before. Perhaps all the cookery lessons were making him sentimental about it.

"I think it should be your birthday every day, Malfoy..." one of the twins, Draco didn't know which was one and which was the other, suddenly piped up and addressed him.

"... if it means we get pancakes!" The other finished the sentence in quick succession and Draco couldn't help but dart his eyes between the two smiling faces. It was the first time they had ever addressed him, as wrapped up in their busy own world as they seemed to be most of the time. He gave a cautious smile of his own which just about reached his eyes.

"Let's eat." He announced, reaching over to get the nearest plate piled high with pancakes, two of which he offloaded onto his plate. The others, who evidently had been waiting for the special guest of the occasion (even the Weasel, surprisingly) needed no further encouragement before they began to dig in.

Draco risked a look at Harry - who happened to be looking back at him with an expression that Draco haltingly identified with a pleasant shudder in his chest. Happiness, complete happiness. He wondered why it was there and where it had came from, but as suddenly as he had found it, it was gone - Harry had noticed him looking back and had dropped his gaze to the half-eaten pancake in front of him, picking up his fork and taking another bite. Draco could remember a time when he had hardly eaten a thing and had never looked so wholly content. Whatever had caused the crushing sadness he had first seen in Harry when he had first arrived at Grimmauld Place, too occupied with his own troubles to care, he was glad that it was gone.

After everybody had eaten a substantial amount and the table spread was looking rather depleted compared to its starting glory, people began to move away to start the rest of the day. Mrs. Weasley, however, strode right up to Draco with a package in her hands. "I got you a little something on the behalf of our family, I hope you like it..."

The Draco of merely a month or two a go would have sneered and insulted the offer. The Draco of that day took it with a gracious nod and thanks. Mrs. Weasley couldn't help but look on as he opened it, revealing the relatively inexpensive gift consisting of a small hamper of various sweets (she had checked with Severus, as with many things, as to what he liked) a set of dark green and blue quills and a handsome black leather-bound notebook. He looked up and smiled, she could tell it was a genuine. "Thank you," he said again. He meant it.

It was a pleasant sight, watching the young man on his birthday; more pleasant than she had ever could have imagined it in the past. It made her feel content, but also sad - it was the trauma he had gone through that had changed him into a much more mature boy, he had been forced to grow up that way. She wished it could have been different, but otherwise she knew he would have eventually become like his father and beyond help, beyond growing in the right direction. Becoming a werewolf was a blessing in a thick, heavy disguise for Draco Malfoy.

Feeling overwhelmed, she pulled Draco into a quick embrace that took him off guard. She let go and looked at him. "I want you to always remember this day," she said, before letting her hands drop to her sides and walking away. One of the last days of a rapidly dwindling childhood.

Draco didn't understand fully what she meant, which at first irked him, yet then he came to terms that perhaps one day he would understand. For the moment he just remembered the familial affection he had felt in that touch.

***

After a relaxing day, even with the Weasley twins further extending their conspicuous interest in him and challenging him to a game of exploding snap, Draco retired to his room after dinner. He understood that usually Harry dropped in around eight thirty - their evening arrangement had become silently accepted on both sides as a permanent thing for the rest of the holidays. He involuntarily thought of the expression he had seen on Harry at breakfast - it really was a beautiful thing, he mused, before quickly changing the word beautiful to interesting before the thought could progress further.

His crush, his silly infatuation, was still going strong and he was always acutely aware of it, but he knew that he couldn't give in to it - that would scare the noble and very _straight_ Harry Potter witless, after all. Though he was also aware it was what drove him to make sure they spent time together, make sure that Harry noticed him and that they spoke to each other. How could he not be?

_I think you should let yourself give in_, the wolf, who had been getting more and more quiet recently, piped up. _You could be surprised._

_The only one who would be surprised would be Potter. Now shush._

He heard a knock on the door and looked at the clock - it was only just eight.

_Someone's eager._

_I said shut up!_

_So cruel... _the wolf whined but quietened down. He could rather imagine it curling up, nose on paws, and going to sleep. That or biding its time.

"Come in," Draco called out, quickly shoving the cookery book (which he had just been reading) under his mattress to avoid another Harry having another embarrassing encounter with it.

Harry entered with one hand behind his back.

"What's wrong? Lost an arm?" Draco joked, distantly guessing with an excited feeling what could be going on.

"No," Harry said, "I've just got something in my hand, that's all."

"Something you can't show me?" Draco asked inquisitively, playing along.

"But of course," Harry said, walking over to him. He then showed the hidden arm, whose hand held a small, rectangular sized parcel. Draco raised his eyebrows.

"A present?" he asked, and then sighed, feeling the guilt he knew would come. "Potter, now you make me look twice as bad because I didn't get you anything!"

"But you couldn't go out-" Harry began, wearing his understanding face, but Draco was having none of it.

"I didn't even know it was your birthday, I wouldn't have gotten you anything anyway Potter. That excuse is null and void."

Harry looked indecisive for a moment, gave Draco a nervous glance. "Do you want to open it then?"

Draco nodded, taking the present from his hand with a delicious brush of skin to go with it. His other hand was urging to grab Harry's still proffered hand before it got too far away, just to feel more, but Draco stopped the idea before it took root. He focused instead on tearing the paper away from what was inside the gift.

He unwrapped what appeared to be the back of a photo frame and then he turned it over. His lips parted. His eyes glued onto the picture inside as if they could never be unstuck from it.

It was the picture he had seen the day he had watched Harry and Weasley clean out one of the old mahogany cupboards - he could see the three sisters, his mother and aunts Bellatrix and Andromeda, smiling and waving at him, Narcissa politely and reservedly, Andromeda with a slightly jaded slowness, Bellatrix manically.

Harry sat down on the bed too, watching Draco in a trance of his own.

He traced one side of the frame with his fingers, too lost in the image that had so thoroughly captured his eye to be afraid of how sentimental that must have looked. Eventually he tore his gaze away to something else he found hard not to look at. He wanted to thank him, but the words just wouldn't form.

"So, what do you think?" Harry asked nervously, afraid that Draco was in some way offended. "Mrs. Weasley managed to get the burning curse off it."

"It's..." Draco began, but gave up. He looked to the picture again. It was the only picture he had seen of his mother at that age and with her sisters - all the ones that possibly existed in Malfoy manor had been secretively horded away. Narcissa had never much liked her childhood family.

Harry took this as disliking, so started to babble, a habit he had recently acquired around Draco. "I mean, if you don't like it then I can take it back to the cabinet and we'll forget about it. You probably miss your mum so maybe you don't want to have it, but I just saw the way you were looking at it and..." He was quietened with a hand swiftly but gently pressing over his mouth from upper lip to chin, a thumb resting on his cheek.

Even such a trivial touch sent jolting shivers through his spinal chord - Draco hardly understood why he had permitted himself the gesture. _Probably to see if his lips feel as soft as they look_, he admitted grimly. _They do._

"I like it," he started off small, but then he wanted to express why. "I think it's wonderful. In fact, it's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. So don't doubt that I like it, because I do - Potter."

Then, though it displeased the dancing creatures in his stomach and the leaping wolf to boot, he removed the hand rested it on his own knee. He was already feeling embarrassed and slightly annoyed because of it - he really hated showing emotion, especially ones as risky as authentic liking, after all.

"Oh," Harry replied eloquently, touching his fingertips to his lips. Draco's hand had felt pleasant, though he tried not to dwell too hard on that discovery. "That's good."

"Thank you," Draco felt odd saying it. Not because he rarely said it, but because he rarely meant it. In fact, he had meant the two words more in one day than he had for the rest of his life already lived. It was especially strange saying it to someone like Harry, who had been his rival and a threat to his whole image as a Malfoy for years. An image that he barely had rights to anymore, he reminded himself with a pang.

"That's fine. Um..." Harry looked up at him bashfully, teeth biting lip and fingers tapping knee. It had a calming effect on Draco, who for once felt at peace with himself.

_Take his hand_, the wolf suggested. _You know you want to._

As soon as the idea flitted into his head his hand itched once again to reach out and take those tapping fingers.

_I don't think that's a good idea_, Draco replied.

_You won't know until you've tried..._

_Ah, to hell with it then._

He released his left hand from invisible bonds and let it wander to where Harry's fidgeting right one was. Upon their touch the feeling of intangible magic coursing up his arm to his chest was immediate. He wondered if Harry could feel the same thing, the power there.

"What's this for?" Harry asked, blinking rapidly as he peered at their hands, pale on tan. At least he didn't sound disgusted, Draco reassured his nerves.

"You seemed nervous," Draco answered with the first excuse that came to him. _Plus I just wanted to touch you again. But I won't tell you that._

"Well," Harry made a small gulping noise, "it was just about the photo, really..." he looked to where it was, sitting on Draco's bedside table. The three girls were linking arms now, fragile and innocent on paper.

Then Draco turned to face him and he felt invariably drawn to turn as well and be encapsulated by grey eyes.

"But I told you," Draco said, "I like it. There's no need to be nervous about that. Is there... anything else?"

He moved the hand that was on Harry's minutely and smoothly, feeling skin graze on skin. No matter how foolish and pointless it was, he needed to know if by an insane chance any inkling of the weird feelings plaguing him were being at all returned.

"Erm," Harry started, then faltered. He had even started to blush; Draco could see it rising from his neck. He might have laughed and pointed it out if he had not been listening so intently. "Well," Harry began again, "sometimes, when we're like this..."

A knock sounded at the door. Draco felt a stab of anger as Harry tore his hand away and propelled away from the bed, going to sit on one of the chairs with a look of thorough mortification. Who the hell had deigned to interrupt them?

He tried to walk slowly to the door, even though he felt tempted to kick it down. He opened it to reveal Granger, which was just marginally better than the Weasel. She seemed unfazed by his death glare.

"Can I come in?" She enquired. Draco was thoroughly tempted to yell at her to go away, but he remembered Harry and how negatively he would probably take that. It seemed that nowadays Harry's opinion mattered a little too much, but he still gave into it.

"Come in," he sighed and cleared the doorway for her.

"Hey Hermione," Harry greeted and Hermione nodded and smiled in return. "What brings you here?"

***

There were two reasons for Hermione's visit to Draco's room that evening. The first was because she also happened to have a Birthday present for him, but had wanted to wait until later to give it to him. The second tied in with the timing of the first - she had wanted to see Draco and Harry at the same time.

She was fully aware, as Ron thankfully wasn't, that Harry was staying sometimes until after midnight in Draco's room before going to bed himself. She was also aware of how much they saw one another throughout the day, the way they sought each other out, the communication between their eyes whether they met or not.

Something was up.

Ron's comments on their sudden closeness the day before had just heightened her suspicions about exactly what they were. Friendship, she was sure of - otherwise they wouldn't spend so much time together, but more than that she was unsure about, cautious even. Besides the fact that they were both boys (she had never really thought about Harry being gay, but it was possible) they had a precarious past. Plus both were emotionally vulnerable from recent events. It could be a recipe for disaster, but nothing had been proven yet.

She sat on the chair next to Harry's, leaving Draco to perch gracefully on his bed and survey both of them with the same intent detachment. He was viewing them exactly the same. How ever many times Hermione had seen Draco look at Harry before with more expression, now he was being watched he was giving nothing away.

She remembered the present in her hands. "Here," she said, offering it, "Happy Birthday."

"Thank you, Granger." Draco replied with just the right amount of politeness as he took it and tore off the cover. He gazed at it with a dry smile - it was a book, the sort of present Hermione knew how to give, emblazoned with the dark gold letters _Living with Lycanthropy by Romulus L. Woolf._

Only Harry laughed. "Seems appropriate." Hermione was too busy watching them and Draco was already reading the blurb with interest. At least he wasn't annoyed about it - and Hermione knew that even if he had been annoyed he would find it helpful.

Draco sent Harry a mock glance of disdain. "Really, Potter. For your next birthday I will get you a book on how to live with idiocy then." Harry just laughed again, not at all offended. It definitely struck Hermione as odd - not too long ago that sort of insult would have riled him up, especially if it had been directed at Ron.

"I'll get you one on being a pompous git, Draco."

Hermione noted the use of first name, though it wasn't the same in Draco's case. Perhaps there was a relationship imbalance? Perhaps Harry felt something but Draco didn't? _How utterly tragic!_ Hermione thought with a rush of sympathy for her friend. She'd just have to punch Malfoy again.

"And I'll get you one for Christmas on being a self-absorbed jerk."

"Oh, let's not forget that you have to live with that enormous ego of yours-"

Well, Hermione thought further, Draco didn't seem entirely uninterested in Harry. She noticed the way he was turned to Harry now, entire body facing him and almost forgetting her own presence as he engaged in the battle of lowbrow barbs.

"How to Live With Everyone Fawning Over You, that sounds like a catchy title..."

Harry scoffed back at him. "How about How To Live With Fawning Over Yourself? That one would be a great read for you."

Hermione had seen enough. Clearly she was being completely forgotten, even by Harry. Though she didn't find it upsetting, just funny. "Right," she said, "I'm off to bed."

"Oh, see you Hermione. Night." Harry said distractedly. Draco just nodded at her; didn't even move his eyes to notice her. She left with an amused smile. They were just so... _transparent._

She just hoped they could handle it when both realized that what they were sharing was not the sort of thing that would just go away if they tried to ignore it.

***

Severus was the last to visit Draco. And gave him the last gift on his birthday, just before the clock in the hall chimed midnight. He had been forced around lunchtime to go back to the Manor, called by the Mark, and had only just arrived back now. He did not wake his god son, who looked so peaceful in sleep that it seemed a crime. He simply left a small gift, inside a little velvet green bag, on the bedside table and, after one last look at the sleeping boy, spun on his heel and walked out, the clock chiming a farewell as he glided quietly down the hallway. He didn't know when they would next see each other again, if the Dark Lord was suspecting him. He couldn't do anything to endanger Draco now.

***

Harry watched his two best friends, his other two thirds as Draco had quite aptly named them, yet again arguing over something trivial at the breakfast table, both unable to take their eyes off each other as they verbally fought.

He just hoped they could handle it when both realized that what they were sharing was not the sort of thing that would just go away if they tried to ignore it. Harry would know.

* * *

A/N: Well, that chapter got a bit out of hand - it's definitely the longest I've written so far. Well, I suppose that makes you lot happy :)

Also, my tip for the day - listening to classical music whilst you write is fantastic (well, it works for me anyway). If you have the time (and the liking for the piano) check out _The Swan by Saint-Saens, Rustle of Spring by Sinding, The Spruce by Sibelius _(what I'm learning to play now, in fact), _Fantaisie-Impromptu in C sharp minor, Op. 66 by Chopin and Waltz in A Flat, Op. 39 No. 15 by Brahms_. I love these songs at the moment, though my firm favourites to play still remains the _Clair de Lune and Moonlight Sonata_. [/classic music rant now over]

Enormous thanks to **Msedward** (I think Draco should listen to the wolf more often :P) **Yana5** (Harry sort of did get Draco something even if it wasn't from Diagon Alley :P) **rebelwilla** (Nope! No unsavoury peoples. Nobody messes with Mrs. Weasley, y'see, she's too much of a tank.) **HufflepuffWitch** (they're getting there... slowly, haha.) **Draco and Hermione is like PBJ** (I think Draco just had a chillax whilst everyone was away. I don't know, but I don't have time to write it all in XD) **Merthurtilidie** (Haha, if I was Draco I would be ashamed of myself :P but he's not overly used to dreams, so let's forgive him.) **perichan **(Thanks for reviewing! Have you subscribed? I just check my e-mail for updates :P)** xo i love emmett xo**, **Symphonii **(I see you may like the classical music? With a name like symphony... anywho, thank you for the review! I'm liking all the hearts! 3) **missny1** (An idea? Well, that's one more than me :P I usually write things off the top of my head...) **Lunar Chasmodai **("talent and skill"? Thank you so much! I try :P and I see you've updated about three chapters or so in the time it's taken me to update once... whoops!) **littlesprout** (yeah, I didn't want to get into the whole 'mate' thing, which is weird in a way because I love Drarry fics when they're accidentally bonded together XD they're great!) **miss quirky bookworm** (I'll get to school year when I get to it :P though I have some vague plans on what will happen - but don't worry, Draco will survive it!) and **ram of the forest** (I am so glad you like all my unresolved sexual tension... and not all the "let's fall in love in the first chapter" stuff. Reviews like this make my day! Thank you!)

p.s. Hermione Granger, THE ULTIMATE COCK BLOCK. But please don't kill her, I still like her! XD And it would have been more clichéd if it was Ronald.


	20. Suspecting

_Suspecting_

With only a week of the holidays left until every under-age wizard or witch in the house would be making the routine trip back to Hogwarts, it was no surprise that the tension, which nobody mentioned aloud, silently mounted in terse looks and murmured complaints.

"No, Ron, you cannot copy my essay..." Hermione was murmuring now, trying to reign in her frustration, as Ron's eyes made bids to see the parchment that was all knowing on the properties of Moonstone and Unicorn hair when mixed together to make the Elixir of Enrichment. All the while his voice tried to reason with her using lines that Harry knew wouldn't work.

"But Hermione, then I'll get a detention with Snape, surely you don't want that..."

"It's your fault if you get a detention." Hermione replied stiffly, quickly tucking the parchment into her Potions book. "If you don't want one, do the work!"

Harry soon tuned them out - he was too used to the inevitable outcome of quarrels such as these. He let his own mind wander to the upcoming school year, wondering what it would have in store for him. Hopefully it would be devoid of detention with Snape, but he knew that would be wishful thinking. If anything the surly Potions teacher hated him more than ever before because of having to even glance at him during the summer holidays.

He thought of the lovely spread of food in the Great Hall at every breakfast, lunch and dinner - after eleven years with the Dursleys he still hadn't quite gotten over the breadth and delicious taste of it. He thought of learning new spells, spells that would help him win the war, and alongside the pang of fear he would never quite get rid of he felt a grim determination. He thought of Ron and Hermione, all the boys in his dorm, all of his friends. How he would see them again.

He also hoped there would be a lot of Quidditch - Hogwarts simply wouldn't be the same without Quidditch. He could easily admit to himself that it was the thing he had missed most, being stuck in Grimmauld Place all summer. He missed the wind whistling in his ears and the tantalising, golden glint of the Snitch in the corner of his vision.

However, none of these things could preside over the thought of Draco Malfoy that loomed on the forefront of his mind. It was partly because it was such a new and strange thought, the idea of willingly spending time with Draco during the school year, a place where they had fought in the corridors and exchanged snide remarks in the classrooms. Yet mostly it was just the thought of Draco - the boy who he now saw in such a different light, one that had changed from the dark and suspicious green of mutual animosity to the pure light of selfless friendship. He liked the change of it, amongst the constant of routine he knew he would fall into over the new school year.

For the next few days that passed, he decided to stick to the routine he had grown to appreciate now he knew it wouldn't last for long. Each morning he woke and began the cycle - wash, breakfast, chores, afternoon with Hermione and the other Weasleys (occasionally Draco, if the Weasley twins could persuade him with enough, much to Ron's dismay) dinner and then the evening with Draco. Back to bed eventually, once Draco had settled into a peaceful sleep. Harry didn't mind the late nights so much - for one, helping Draco with his bad dreams seemed to dispel Harry's altogether, so he was in-fact getting more sleep than he had for weeks.

On the fourth day of the last week, Hermione called what she referred to as a "Malfoy Meeting." Personally, Harry found it amusing, though it just caused Ron to grumble disconsolately. He could guess quite accurately what Hermione's plan of action would be, so made himself comfy sitting on his bed whilst Hermione prepared herself to launch into a speech.

Ron had different ideas. He groaned and put his head in his hands. "What are we, the Malfoy fan club?"

"Ron, don't be childish." Hermione admonished, "This is a serious matter - we'll be back to school in a matter of days and almost everyone will soon know of Draco's condition, if they don't already. As semi-members of the Order, who are taking care of him, and as classmates, we must look out for him."

"I've been thinking about that too," Harry added, contributing alongside Ron's long-suffering sigh, trying to hide the worry he felt, "but how can we really stick by him if he's in a different house?"

Hermione gave him a searching look - he panicked, swearing that he saw a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. Did I give too much away? He was relieved when she carried on talking, looking a bit pleased. It was the kind of expression she wore after looking up some obscure fact out of a big, dusty tome in the school library. She had been researching.

"Well, I asked Mrs. Weasley about it, who has been informed by Dumbledore that Draco will have his own private room to sleep in, not in the Slytherin common room, but nearby. To transform in and everything." She added, with a dark look, "also so his house mates won't bother him." They all knew that Draco would not get any sympathy from the Slytherins - they would invariably try to make his life a misery.

Ron piped up, Harry suspected partly to break the silence. "Seems a bit far to go for a ferrety little-"

"Ron! So yes, Harry, that will make more chance for us to see him. Well, mainly you." She didn't even give him one of those looks this time, but he felt himself flushing in embarrassment anyway. She certainly suspected something, though he wasn't certain what yet. It wasn't like he'd be asking any time soon - she'd bring it up sometime.

"Don't see how you put up with him..." Ron grumbled quietly, but said nothing more on the matter.

In the ensuing discussion, mainly between Hermione and Harry, they decided that they would keep in contact covertly over the year - which in a way was disappointing (there went the idea of Harry and Draco walking around the grounds together, traipsing around Hogsmeade with friends and pairing up in classes, which Harry fervently denied thinking about to himself) but also oddly thrilling - it made it seem more like a secret operation, more important.

Hermione had brought this point up, with he usual amount of logical reasoning - "if people see us being friendly to Draco, his house mates will be even worse to him and we don't want that. It's best if we're subtle about it. Plus, Malfoy will want to keep his pride - we mustn't forget that." Her tone on these last words was filled with a held-back sigh of exasperation. Harry remembered then that Hermione may not even like Draco, but was doing this out of duty to the Order. He couldn't really blame her, for the way Draco had treated her in the past, but he wished she could see how Draco was now, how he had probably always been but hidden it.

If there was any positive to the sobering conversation it was that Harry now felt more resolved to how things were going to be with Draco. It was a friendship of caring and sympathy that he knew from experience with Draco that was best to hide. He was doing it for Draco and for the Order, not for any errant feelings he may have for him.

However, it was harder to convince his brain of this than his heart, which hammered in protest against his ribcage at the thought of what he felt being eternally unrequited. What made it worse was that he was quite sure that it would always be unrequited, whether he did anything about it or not. The idea of him and Draco just didn't make any sense, after all. What benefit would it do in the end to pursue feelings like that?

Feeling strangely heavy all over, he laid back on his bed and bit his lip, only vaguely listening to Ron and Hermione's latest bicker.

***

Part of the routine dominating Harry and Draco's life for that week was where their lives quietly and gratefully intertwined like two vines on the same wall - the nights where Harry would sit silently and stoically, face not moving in expression due to his drowsiness, as he listened to Draco dozing and then hopefully drifting into an uncomplicated sleep.

Now Harry was flicking through a textbook he had picked up at random, anything to keep his eyes open as their conversation had run through to a much later hour than he had realized before Draco had gone to bed, but his bored eyes drifted more often to the boy in the bed than the text on the pages. Draco appeared to be dozing, in a rare fit of openness facing Harry, pale features glowing in the almost-darkness like a white rose in the sun, waxy and flawless. Harry tried to tell himself he wasn't making these comparisons as they flitted through his head. He tried to tell himself he wasn't thinking Draco absolutely striking and that his heart wasn't roiling painfully around his chest because of it.

It's easier to deny things that are happening when in a dark little room and nobody else can see. That's why he let himself stare, grip slackening on the book, breath stopped halfway in with a feeling like his ribs were constricting.

"Potter," Draco said and Harry's eyes snapped back to the chapter on Avian Transfiguration he was meant to be reading. He wondered if Malfoys were trained to feel it when someone was looking at them, even with closed eyes.

"Yes?" He asked, willing himself to sound innocent and unassuming.

"When do we go back to school?"

Harry paused to think about it. "Three days." His grip tightened on the poor book.

"I know." Draco replied, eyes still closed and face expressionless in a way Harry envied.

At first Harry felt a slight rise of irritation at the pointless question that Draco had known the answer to anyway, apparently, and he wondered if it was just another Malfoy thing, taught alongside blind seeing? Then his brain caught up with him and he understood what was behind those words. Draco wanted to talk about school and the problems that would surely arise once he went back, but didn't want to bring it up outright.

On complete impulse, Harry set down the book and got up, stretching the tired sinews in his back before pacing over and sitting on the lower edge of the bed, just next to Draco's feet that shifted to accommodate him. Draco really did open his eyes now, peering up at him with guarded curiosity, amongst the other things that made up the confusing turmoil of half-emotions that was Draco Malfoy's gaze.

It's because I want to calm his nerves, Harry reminded himself, not because I want to be near him. No matter how interesting his eyes may be.

"Draco," he said aloud, "I know things will be hard once you go back to school. I want you to know I'll try to help in anyway I can."

"I won't need help." Draco replied forcedly, as if trying to reassure himself of that as much as to Harry. Harry had been expecting something like it.

"Okay. How about company and conversation now and again?"

Draco just looked at him for a few seconds and if felt suspiciously like he was looking inside him, searching for ulterior motives and subtext to the words. Harry grew more and more aware of how close they were, separated by mere covers.

"I may need that." The reply was slow and quiet, completely cautious.

"I can provide that, if you want?" Harry offered. Draco nodded, seeing no risk of pride in the agreement - they had been sharing the two things for over a week already, after all. Nothing was changing, just the setting.

In a small way it did make the huge pulsing bubble of anxiety inside of Draco deflate, if only slightly. He couldn't let Harry Potter's friendship affect him _that_ much, no matter how much he secretly wanted it to. He suspected that it would take a lot more willpower from now on to not let Harry Potter affect him at all.

***

It was the last night of the summer holidays and the next day was looming upon all the residents of Grimmauld Place, whether they were going back to school or not. For Molly Weasley it meant planning, packing, sorting things out, shouting, scalding, more packing, and more shouting. Then eventually the saddening absence of all the children she loved so much.

For Arthur Weasley, who decided to leave for the Ministry sharply that morning due to his wife's frankly volatile mood, it meant booking a car (which was always exciting - what an amazing Muggle invention the car was!) and then ferrying everyone to Platform 9 ¾ before waving them off in the usual jovial manner.

For Fred and George Weasley, who would not miss the dark yet safe place of Grimmauld one iota, it meant moving above their soon-to-be-open joke shop and seeing their long-awaited business come into fruition. And, of course, feeding their beloved brother Ron a canary cream for his troubles before he went off to school for the year.

For said brother, it meant spending a big part of the evening as an extremely annoyed giant canary and then hurriedly stuffing things into his trunk under his mother's instruction. Also, saying outwardly he hoped that his owl, Pig, wouldn't come back from his latest outing before heading off to Hogwarts but hoping inwardly that the silly little bird would come home in time.

For Hermione Granger, it meant trying to fit all her books back into her trunk, not an easy feat, and getting a cage ready for the unimpressed looking Crookshanks.

For Ginny Weasley, it was being able to get back to her new boyfriend, Dean Thomas, who she had wanted to see for the entire summer but could not due to the secrecy of the Order hideout.

For Harry Potter, it was hoping that for once he could have a relatively quiet year at school, though he knew that even hoping for it was quite futile for a boy who managed to attract as much trouble as he always did.

For Draco Malfoy it was a new start, of which he knew he would not enjoy one bit.

Currently Draco sat in the study, his little place of safety that made a change from the monotony of his bedroom, eyes flickering nervously around the room - had the light always looked this sickly? - and arms crossed together in an attempt to hold the fear in. He wished that he could be more confident, force on the face of the sneering Malfoy, but for the first time in his existence he couldn't find it.

This was not an epiphany of gratifying and exciting realisation, but one of cold and hardening dread. What if he couldn't take it at school? What if he crumbled under the pressure? What if he really _wasn't _a Malfoy anymore, but a weakling? His breathing, not currently the focus of his thought, quickened by itself into short and insubstantial stutters that gradually made him feel dizzy. He couldn't understand what was coming over him - his frantic mind was too busy trying to piece together an identity that he had lost amongst everything that had changed in his life. He wasn't himself any more... then what was he?

A boy?

A man?

A beast?

Nothing?

His eyes started to go then, piecing away like a puzzle undoing itself into jagged sections of black, constantly mutating and moving across his vision. Then he couldn't hear properly, such was the loud whirring and howling of the intangible new atmosphere of terror assaulting his ears, and he thought fleetingly that if he didn't breath soon he would pass out.

The door opened and he heard a voice. "I thought you'd be here - Draco? What's wrong? Draco?"

The sound of the voice seemed to unlock him from the frenzy - he managed to dredge up a semblance of willpower he didn't even think he had to sit upright again and breathe. Yet he couldn't stop panicking, and it threatened to come back.

"Draco?" Harry tried again, now materializing in front of him, a hand weighing comforting on each shoulder. It felt like the weight of normality and Draco concentrated on that. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I am, Potter." That came out weaker than it should have. He sounded... scared. No, that was all wrong. _Malfoys never show fear_, a voice suspiciously like his father's echoed in his head. Rule number one thousand, five hundred and eighty six of the unspoken rules that Draco had always lived by. Well, until recently. The panic started coming back, so he tried to think of something else.

_Harry's eyes_. That would do. _So bloody green you think they'd sucked the colour out of the summer grass._

The eyes widened in what looked like worry. "Grass? Why are you talking about grass?"

_Bugger, I said it out loud_. "I wasn't, you must have misheard me."

"Okay..." Thankfully, Harry didn't call him on it. "So what's up?" Yet he wouldn't let it go entirely.

"Nothing's wrong. Stop asking." Draco managed to sound tetchier this time, more in character, but Harry didn't go away. He sat down beside him and waited. He was waiting for Draco to talk, Draco realized with vexation pulling in his navel, feeling like a Portkey. He wouldn't fall for something like that - instead he waited silently, sitting back and trying to look calm and collected, though he felt quite the opposite.

"Something is wrong," Harry said finally, cautiously, "it looked like you were having a panic attack or something."

"I was not!" Oh dear, Draco thought, that sounded much more emotional.

"Okay, but something was up. What is it?" Draco couldn't remember this nagging part of Harry's personality existing, but apparently it did - he supposed it must have had something to do with his natural high levels of stubbornness. It certainly wasn't the best part of his personality, but he guessed that it yielded results as he found himself giving into it.

"Tomorrow." He left it at that, the panic threatening to claw up into his throat and make him talk far too much and in an overly distressed way.

Harry nodded. Then Draco felt a hand shadowing over his, just like his had done with Harry's a few days earlier. The wave of comfort such a simple touch provided took him entirely by surprise. He couldn't even bring himself to feel suspicious, or give Harry a _look_, or take his hand away. It was just too nice.

What was even nicer was that Harry didn't say anything. He just sat there, his hand radiating all the words that he didn't need to say. Draco could feel himself relaxing, his shoulders unclenching and his heart slowing to its usual rhythm. He was even tempted to close his eyes and sigh with relief.

That's when he found himself letting everything spill out, even if he still thought perhaps Harry was using the silence to get him to do this.

"I just know that school will be terrible. I just know - so there's no need to say otherwise. I mean, everybody in my house will detest me. Everyone else will because they probably did anyway. I'm going to have to put up with these transformations all on my own. People who used to look up to me will be trying to curse me in the corridors. I'm not who I was anymore, I've lost everything. I've lost my identity."

There. The first time he had properly opened up to anyone in his life and to Harry bloody Potter.

"I see," said Harry and his hand moved so that their fingers could link. Draco wondered if Harry even realized what it was doing to him, the comfort he had felt now mixed with nervous excitement and a dull pain because he knew the excitement would never come to anything. He wondered if Harry knew and what Harry thought about it. If he did know, at least he wasn't disgusted about it. Just innocently torturous.

***

Harry once again brought his motives into question. He knew that this was the right thing to do, to comfort Draco in a time of need, but was holding his hand strictly necessary?

He knew he was doing that because he wanted to, he wanted to hold Draco's hand and all because of a crush that just wasn't going away. It was completely selfish.

His mind flashed to Sirius and how his love for Harry had ultimately caused him to disappear behind the veil. The stab of guilt was a painful wake up call - everyone he loved came to ruin in the end, because of Harry.

Yet he couldn't take the hand away. He couldn't stop inflicting the pain, the ruin of others. And Draco really didn't need anymore pain in his life, he really didn't at all.

He started to unlink their fingers, take himself away, but the other hand just tightened the grip. "Don't," Draco said and offered no more explanation. Harry looked at him, eyes wide. He couldn't think of a word to say in response to that.

What did that mean? Well, it meant that Draco didn't want him to take his hand away, obviously, but beyond that? Was there something beyond it, or was it simply the comfort of touch? Harry burned, yearned to know, but he couldn't. He couldn't expose Draco to a love that would end up hurting him.

"Draco-" he began again, wanting to explain why it was best that he let go.

"The other day," Draco didn't even let him start, his voice and eyes thoroughly distracting him, "you were going to say something. Before Granger came in."

Harry involuntarily tightened their grip this time. He hoped that his hand wasn't sweating too much. Yes, what he had been trying to say the other day, when Draco had been looking at him like that, capturing his conscience again, and he had just wanted to blurt out how he felt. Draco wanted to hear it. For humiliation or just the knowledge of it, Harry didn't know, but he knew that he was expected to answer in some manner of words.

"Um, what about it?"

"I was wondering about what - about what you were going to say." It was small consolation that Draco sounded as nervous as he felt. So perhaps humiliation wasn't his angle, but Harry still found it hard to speak.

"Well, it's just that, um... well." He couldn't have been less eloquent if he had tried, but for once Draco wasn't laughing at him. Odd. He looked away, finding Draco's stare too intense. "I don't know how to say this now."

Draco was still looking at him when he looked back. "Well, I can't say it for you," he dead-panned, getting a laugh out of Harry that neither of them expected.

"I like you a lot, Draco."

Neither of them had been expecting that either. It had just seemed so easy in that moment, that second of ease amongst the minutes or awkwardness that stretched on and on, but Harry knew it had been a mortifying mistake.

"But it doesn't matter. It really doesn't." He said immediately afterwards, ripping his hand away as if the flesh was being burnt off. He couldn't have left the room quicker than he did, exiting at full speed.

***

Draco didn't feel so much panicked as completely flabbergasted now. Had he seriously meant that the way Draco thought he did? Like as in crush? Like as in fancy? Like as in I want you? _Is there any way to say this without it being excruciatingly embarrassing?_

_Shut up, brain, and stop being an idiot. _He rarely found reason to call himself that, but the wolf growled in agreement before figuratively stepping in.

_He meant it that way, I could feel it in his sweaty palms and his heart beat._

_So that was the throbbing noise I could hear in my head?_

_No, that was just your own tension, some sounds I keep to myself._

_Strange wolf. _It was an almost affectionate claim; had not the wolf caused him too much trouble and pain for affection to be possible. The wolf passed no further comment, leaving Draco on his own again.

_So Harry likes me. What the hell am I supposed to do about it?_

Draco had never liked not having an obvious solution to any given problem, but this time none were forthcoming. Firstly, he had never experienced feelings like this. He had never experienced returned feelings like this either. It was hard to admit, but he just didn't have a clue what to do - so would just have to take cue from Harry and see what the other boy was going to do about it.

By the sheer levels of Harry's mortification, he began to suspect that nothing would be done about it for as long as it could be avoided. Whatever it was now.

***

Predictably, Harry didn't turn up in Draco's room that evening, the three knocks on his door that had become a familiar sound to Draco's ears aching in its absence. He understood that Harry needed some time away, to sort out his head, but it was still disappointing.

Striving for a distraction, Draco's eyes swept his room restlessly. They fell upon something that had not been there before - a small velvet pouch on the long windowsill, subtle and almost unnoticeable against the dark curtains, just waiting to be opened. He picked it up with a curious frown, wondering what was inside and what it was doing in his room. Had somebody accidentally left it in his room? Had they left it for him?

His curiosity won over any cautiousness he felt and he poked a finger inside to open up the little bag. His hand closed around two thin, rectangular objects, cold and smooth. They were two mirrors, both identical and ornamentally decorated around the outside in black wood. Draco could see little Dragons carved expertly into the wood, breathing small, black plumes of fire. They were certainly beautiful, but what were they for?

The answer came in the small note he found at the bottom of the pouch in his godfather's handwriting.

_Draco,_

_These two mirrors connect to one another, use yours to contact the person on the other side. Choose wisely who can use the other mirror - I trust that you will find suitable alliances to protect you now, alliances that you will need.  
_

_Severus_

Draco was impressed - he had not heard of this kind of magic before. He thumbed one of the carved dragons as he read the note over again. _Find suitable alliances... he must mean the Order. Well, I've definitely made alliances with some people here._

He felt a rising fondness envelope him as he thought of all the people he had grown to know over the past few weeks - Mrs. Weasley, who had taught him to clean and cook and other such basic things, the Weasley twins, who he had never expected to find so entertaining and oddly likeable. Even Granger, striving to be civil when he knew she clearly still didn't trust him. The Weasel, trying to rein in his errant temper.

Harry...

_Stop being so sentimental_, he told himself, but the feeling persisted and he was glad for it. He needed all the happy memories he could get before school tomorrow.

He forced himself to go to sleep that night, but it didn't stop the nightmares from coming back. He had to remind himself that Harry wouldn't be there this time, but it still hurt every time he woke up with a gasp and tried to search out familiar green eyes in the dark.

* * *

**A/N: If anyone is wondering what the Elixir of Enrichment would do, well here's my idea - it would completely replenish everything in the person who drank it, such as energy, mood, health etc. It's a pick-me-up potion. I don't know, I just like making up random things.**

**And angst abound on Harry's part, sorry! He just misses his Sirius too much.**

**And I couldn't resist the mirror idea, I just loved it so much from the canon. Plus I plan to put them to future use...**

**Eternal thank-yous to **Msedward** (Damn that Hermione! She means good really though :P) **Ex Mentis** (haha, 'Warts, I love it. And you'll just have to find out... otherwise I'd be giving too much away! :P) **Yana5, ninjadragons **(All in good time XD) **Merthurtilidie** (Snape is awesome :D and I think Draco needs a crash-course in how to be nice... we'll get Harry to teach him :P) **mysnecret** (erm... Hermione knows what time Harry goes to bed? Did I put that? I can't rememeber. She just knew that Draco would be in his room, therefore giving him the present then, and Harry was there. Voila.) **egoXlockheart** (Don't worry, I can handle flipping out comments :P but don't you just love the tension of "yes... yes... noooo!" moments?! I do! It makes it more interesting.) **Draco and Hermione is like PBJ **(Awwww, Hermione wasn't to know :P and it got resolved in this chapter! Yay!) **Kokoro5050 **(The tension will be there for a while :P and thank you!) **rebelwilla** (nyes, Draco made his sneaky handholding move, which Harry then made again here! All that sneaky hand holding, you just don't see it coming.)** littlesprout, ram of the forest** (I love the twins in general, they're awesome :D and Ron will come round... eventually... :P) **miss quirky bookworm** (I'm glad you liked their banter :D) **Matariki **(thank you very much!) **SilverBlood7884** (the cupcakes make me very happy indeed :) thanks!) **ForeverJynxed **(Thank you so much! And no worries about the reviews thing :P I just like hearing from you! :D your reviews make me feel so happy!) **tanya27 **(Don't worry, I'll try my best! :D) **Imperial Mint** (Whoo, I love your uber long reviews :D and Mr. Wolfie! Lmao! I will start calling him that from now on. Ahhhh, the Swan is so pretty with the Cello part :) but I just have the piano-only version... I used to play the viola for years, but gave up, so you could say I like strings XD piano is my firm favourite though. Unfortunately, I don't like opera :P just can't get into it...) **Arcus Pluvius** (*sends special beams at* ) and **Byzantea** (Thanks for the review! What worries me most about writing fanfic is keeping the characters in character, so I'm so glad you think that I'm doing that okay!)**

**Some of your reviews are so flattering it's crazy, I don't know what to do with myself XD but they're all appreciated! *Strokes ego* Careful, I may get too big headed because of this :P**

**- purplerawr**

**p.s. Crack Moment of Concern no.3:**

_Draco,_

_These two mirrors connect to one another, use yours to contact the person on the other side. Choose wisely who can use the other mirror - I trust that you will find suitable alliances to protect you now, alliances that you will need.  
_

_LOTS AND LOVE AND HUGS AND KISSES, YOUR GODFATHER SEVVY BABES _

**I was just so tempted :P but I think Snape would kill me.**_  
_


	21. Journeying

_Journeying_

On the day of their journey back to Hogwarts, getting ready to leave wasn't the hard thing. Nor was finally stepping outside of the dingy and dusty abode he had spent the last few weeks in at all difficult. No, the hardest thing for Draco that day was how Harry was ignoring him, though he was pained to admit it. It was because of Harry's most recent infuriating behaviour that he realised how connected they had been over the summer. He found himself physically knowing the absences of Harry's green eyes looking over at him, over the breakfast table or the chess board or his even his bedside, and their conversations that had shortened the hours. Harry had always been communicating with him in some way.

_It's his bloody fault that I miss all that_ Draco thought sullenly as they were driven in the Ministry car (he'd never been in a car before – what a strange yet intriguing Muggle contraption) to the train station. Yet it was all too easy to pass the blame. He had to admit that he had played his part in the whole fiasco. He had been the one to ask Harry to stay with him – partly through desperation for company and the comfort of someone else being there, partly because he had wanted to – and he had not refrained from touching Harry when the tempting whim of his errant compulsions suggested it. Like the hug or the bloody handholding.

Yet ambiguous touch was one thing, full blown confessions of affection quite another.

_Trust him to be so rash about it_ he thought, both disapproving and a little bit envious that Harry could speak so directly about something so personal, _and now he's going to drown in the aftershock and humility hoping that the whole thing will go away. _He would not have expected something like that before from Harry, who always seemed to be facing up to things and never leaving anything unfinished, but he could clearly see it in the other boy's averted eyes, his body turning away, the way he moved just to lengthen the distance. He wanted the whole thing to go away. In a way it was disappointing, in another relieving.

Under the avalanche of habitual denial, disapproval, embarrassment, disappointment… desire and excitement were buried and trying to fight their way out. For now Draco knew the feeling was mutual and, to his sadistic streak's joy, Harry did not! Finally he felt like he was one step ahead again and not lagging behind in confusion and mortification – just like Harry still was now. Yet, there was a purer core to this excitement, white hot and gleaming: nobody had admitted that kind of feeling to him before, not with so much honesty. The emotionally starved part of him coveted and protected the warmth that the words had brought him.

Although these epiphanies were slightly tarnished by the thought of how awkward the upcoming Hogwarts Express journey would be, due to the devised seating plan. Draco would soon have to put on the Invisibility Cloak that had been silently given to him that morning by Harry himself (to Draco's secret delight it even smelt a little bit like Harry) and then would travel to Hogwarts in it in a compartment with his confederates of the Golden Trio. Granger and Weasley would have their prefect duties – Draco had voluntarily resigned, thinking that he would not be a very effective prefect any longer – but would set out after everybody else had settled into compartments so there would be less chance of anybody else trying to sit with the alone looking Harry so that they could draw the blinds and Draco could have some time to eat and get changed without other students getting mightily confused about it.

Leaving he and Harry alone in the compartment for about an hour if not longer. Harry, who wouldn't even say a word to him or look at him.

_What fun that will be!_

_Why don't you tell him how you feel so he's not so awkward around you anymore?_

_A __Malfoy doesn't talk about feelings._

_You humans are too prideful. _

Draco then blocked the wolf's voice out, that or it had given up talking to him. He tried to summon what he called the Voice of Malfoy, which sounded uncannily like his father, reminder of all values and rules Malfoy. Yet it wouldn't come with any pearls of wisdom. He resumed glaring at the back of Harry's head instead, which was thoroughly freaking out Weasley, who happened to be sitting next to him. Draco found that he didn't care.

***

As Harry had surmised, since the very second after he had blurted out how he felt, the day spent travelling to school was not the usual calm fun of the train journey, not as terrifying as when the train was held up by Dementors, nor as exciting as crashing into the Whomping Willow via Ford Anglia. If anything it was a day of excruciating embarrassment with small amounts of eventfulness thrown in to intersperse it, just in case Harry was getting bored of each current level of mortification and wanted more.

He had spent the entire car journey determined not to succumb to temptation and turn around to see the look of disgust and ridicule on Draco's face that he was sure would be there (he just hadn't given himself enough time to see it before fleeing Draco's room the night before.) Then had come running through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾ and, according to the plan they were to follow on pain of death glare by Mrs. Weasley, Draco was to run through it by Harry's side and then stay with him right up until they arrived at school.

The run through the barrier exposed them to a busy world of colour, sound and more robes than they had seen all summer. Harry noticed the fabric-covered hand that came to hold his wrist, he noticed it painfully, but said nothing about it. He would have just looked like a lunatic talking to himself anyway.

Then the farewells. The twins had even come to send them off, both giving Harry a hearty slap on the back and sending identical grins and waves to the thin air they knew Draco to be hiding in. Nobody could contain their laughter when a woman, clearly startled, waved back warily before walking away, very quickly.

Harry had technically received two goodbyes from Mrs. Weasley, though one had been meant for Draco. His had been the standard bear hug and long list of all possible hazards to his physical and mental wellbeing and ways to fight them. Then Draco's.

"This is to Draco," her eyes flickered almost imperceptibly to Harry's right, where Draco stood close, as she spoke quietly, "but I want it to look like I'm talking to you, Harry. I'll keep it short – remember everything I have taught you, it'll help in the long run. Remember that you're a strong person and you can endure. But, most importantly, remember that there are people who love you." Then she smiled, all traces of seriousness evaporating, "Off you go then! You don't want to miss the train…"

With Draco's hand still determined fastened onto his wrist like a clutching bracelet (Harry wondered futilely if Draco would have done the same if he had been visible, or put on a brave sneer) he started pull along his trunk again and got onto the handsome scarlet steam train that greeted him with its constant whirring and a high-pitched whistle that was in now way grating on his ears, which had been waiting for the familiar sound.

Ron flanked Harry to the left and Hermione walked in front of where she knew Draco to be, who stuck close and slightly behind Harry on his right. It was an odd procession, to say the least, and with every step they were in danger of Draco bumping into someone. Harry had barely any time to greet anybody else, including Neville holding a flailing Trevor and a dreamily waving Luna, before Hermione pulled him and subsequently Draco into an inconspicuous looking compartment and Ron hurriedly drew the privacy curtains.

"There," Hermione said triumphantly, "at least nobody bumped into Draco. That's the trickiest part over with." She even brushed her hands together, as if she had been putting up shelves instead of guarding somebody in an invisibility cloak. She turned to Ron after a few minutes. "We need to get on with prefect duty now, or people will start looking for us." Without further word, only an apologetic glance from Ron, they were gone.

Very slowly and reluctantly, Draco pulled off the encompassing invisibility cloak. "Here," he said quietly and threw it lightly in Harry's direction, who watched its strange shimmering fabric floating through the air for a moment before catching it and gripping onto it, bringing it closer to his chest as if for protection. A distant part of his brain registered the scent of Draco. Not knowing what to do, he kept on looking at the iridescent material, feeling it slip through his fingers as he moved it.

***

Draco said nothing more, though the poignant silence was calling for his voice, and sat down with a sigh that didn't escape his lips. He stared at the dark curtains, wishing that at least they could be open so he could have focussed on the students milling about outside and bashing their trunks into each other's. Nothing moved in the little compartment, just two frantically beating hearts.

He heard Harry sit down from the small _whump_ of the seat. Then he heard Harry's trunk opening with a leathery creak and something being extracted from inside it. The turning of pages.

_Damn_, Draco thought to himself, _I wish I had brought a book in my robes pocket, at least. I'm going to be terribly bored._

A sliding sound stopping by his thigh made him pause in thought and look down. A book lay by his side, an old Quidditch annual by the looks of it. He kept his smile to being on the inside. So Harry wouldn't talk to him, but would still pass him books to keep him entertained? He picked it up by the worn cover and began to read it, not in his usual way of flicking through, but absorbing its every word. He had to make it last.

***

Sometimes Hermione wondered why she liked being a prefect. One such time was this, trying to stop two bickering Gryffindor fourth year girls from trying to hex each other's faces off mid-argument. Ron was even looking too amused by the insults – "You're fat!" "You're ugly!" "Yeah, well you're fat _and_ ugly!" – to even help.

She was momentarily distracted by the sight of two blurs out of the corner of her eye. She could have groaned aloud when she worked out what they were – Luna and Neville, who looked like they were heading straight towards the compartment that Harry and Draco occupied.

"I swear Harry was here…" she heard Neville's voice float over to her ears, "Let's knock just in case."

She would have stopped them if one of the fourth years hadn't actually decided to hex the other girl's eyebrows to grow at an astonishing rate straight over her face. She had other work to do and Ron was too busy laughing to notice anything. Yes, it was an annoyance, this prefect business.

***

They had been reading for a fair few minutes in mutual silence when a knock came on the door. They both erupted in a flurry of panicked movement, the quite truce temporarily forgotten.

"The cloak! The cloak!" Draco hissed urgently, hands outstretched, as Harry fumbled in his pocket hurriedly and pulled out the desired object. He handed it to Draco who, in a gracious movement, managed to quickly throw the material over him in a plume of glittering grey and then absolutely nothing as he turned invisible once again.

"Come in," Harry said, evidently trying to sound calm. Draco had a strange urge to poke him and see if he'd jump clean out of his skin by the frozen look of alarm on his face. When Loony Lovegood and Longbottom came in, Draco could have cursed if he didn't remember to remain silent. Obviously he was destined to have a weird day today.

"Hullo," Longbottom said in his cheerful idiot's voice and Loony waved at Harry even though he was only a few metres away from her. Harry nodded at them both, relaxing his face even though Draco could see that the sinewy muscles in his exposed forearms were tensed, and gestured at the seats the other side of him to where Draco was sitting so they would sit down there. Draco had to admit then that Harry wasn't wholly useless.

Then they started an inane conversation that Draco could hardly be bothered to keep up with as it made his brain feel like wilting with every word. He yearned for the Quidditch annual only inches away from his right hand, but knew it was too much of a risk to grab it, even around such idiots.

At one point their conversation did turn to something interesting, something that Draco in fact found infinitely amusing.

"So what subjects are you taking this year, Harry?" Neville asked and Harry listed off his, which Draco already knew. Then Harry returned the question – Neville immediately looked downtrodden, a look that Draco thought suited him best.

"Well, my grades aren't really up to much apart from in Herbology, so I'm going to take that. I'm hoping that maybe I can take Transfiguration as well, but I don't know… I'm definitely not doing Potions anymore though!" He then smiled, "No more Snape!"

"Agreed," said Harry with a matching smile. Draco supposed he should feel offended by them talking badly of Severus, but he was just too distracted by the smile that he hadn't dared to admire so openly and unabashedly until now, under the cloak.

"Speaking of which," Neville added, "I really, really hope I don't have any classes with Malfoy this year. That git never made things any easier."

Draco could have laughed aloud; he really could have, but just managed to keep it in. It was interesting to think that he had made such an impression of fear on somebody. Under the laughter, a place that from today he had locked up again, it made him feel a bit sick.

Harry didn't look at all amused. He scowled, so all thoughts of perfunctory amusement learned from a young age were wiped out in Draco's mind by the disappointment that was far too easy to rise through the barriers nowadays. Harry wasn't nearly as attractive when he scowled.

"Yeah, he really was a git to you, Nev. I hope that improves now that we're older." An imperceptible look to his left and Draco felt much more sober, not to mention annoyed. The tenacity, telling him off like that!

Neville looked dubious at Harry's comment. "I think he'll be just as scary, to be honest." Then he blinked as a thought appeared to enter his little head. "Oh, that's right, I was meant to get something off Seamus that I left behind last year – I'm going to go find him. See you at the feast, Harry!" Neville clumsily picked up his trunk and began to wheel it out of the compartment. Luna soon followed him, muttering something about Nargles. She left behind a copy of the Quibbler for Harry to peruse.

***

As soon as Luna and Neville had gone what appeared to be thin air burst into laughter. Harry could feel anger, hot and unforgiving, bubbling inside him. It was the reaction he had expected, but it was still annoying.

Draco whisked off the cloak. "Longbottom's actually scared of me? Seriously? He has less backbone than I thought!" He shook his head, a sneer plastered on his face. It was a hard sight to see in the light of how many beautiful expressions Harry had seen on his face of late. A cold, hard sneer was so far removed from who he thought Draco really was. Perhaps he was wrong about him after all.

That was what made him break the silence he had imposed on them due to his own embarrassment, because he wouldn't hear someone talk about his friend like that. "You think that's funny, do you? Well I don't, so shut up."

Draco raised his eyebrows at him. "So it speaks?" Though Harry could have sworn that he looked… worried? _What the hell is going on with him?_

"Yes, it fucking well does." Harry was in full rage mode now, a place he had not been for a while. "You know, I thought you weren't really like that underneath it all, not just some sarcastic bastard who enjoys others' suffering. But when I see you act like this it's hard to believe that you're not exactly that."

Draco did something he rarely ever did – he looked away. "Today has been a tough day." Was all he said. Harry knew that it made sense, Draco was resorting back to making fun of others to try and feel less nervous himself, but that didn't make it acceptable.

"That doesn't make it acceptable," Harry echoed his mind, "When things get tough don't take it out on others. Do something constructive instead."

Draco scoffed. _Oh great, now I'm getting life advice_. He still couldn't stop asking, "Like what?"

"Talk to someone about it." Was the first thing that sprung into Harry's head, his voice still forceful and irritated until he told himself to calm it down.

Draco scoffed again. "Are you aware of how mushy you're sounding? You should apply to have your own advice column… for desperate and lonely middle-aged women."

"My point still stands," Harry said determinedly. And he knew they both knew that Harry was referring to himself as the person Draco talked to, even though neither of them said it aloud. Harry tried and failed not to attribute this personally to the fact that he wanted to still see Draco once they were back at school, even if it would probably be uncomfortable from what Draco knew about Harry's rampant feelings that just_ wouldn't_ go away.

"Okay," Draco said and he could have been agreeing to something as trivial as a cup of tea by the tone of his voice. They reverted from open confrontation back into silence in a matter of moments. Somehow Harry found he preferred it when they had been talking, even if he had shouted a bit.

It felt like a long time had passed before Ron and a harassed looking Hermione returned to the compartment.

* * *

**A/N: It's been a long time, ne? It's not like I have block or anything, I want to write, but I'm afraid Real Life has me constantly on my feet recently. Hence the tragic shortness (but I really wanted a train journey chapter :D) In the hopes of making up for it...**

**Crack Moment of Concern no. 4: Yet ambiguous touch was one thing, full blow jobs quite another.**

**Crack Moment of Concern no. 5: He had spent the entire car journey determined not to succumb to temptation and ravish Draco there and then in the car infront of Hermione and the Weasleys. (Oh, if only *sigh*)**

**Crack Moment of Concern no. 6: ...before Hermione pulled him and subsequently Draco into an inconspicuous looking compartment and Ron hurriedly drew the privacy curtains before they all proceeded to have a glorious gangbang. (Ew. Why do I even think this stuff?)**

**Crack Moment of Concern no. 7: He heard Harry sit down from the small _whump_ of the seat. Then he heard Harry's trunk opening with a leathery creak and something being extracted from inside it. The crack of a whip.**

**Crack Moment of Concern no. 8: A sliding sound stopping by his thigh... (that just sounds cracky on its own terms really. I bet you were all hoping for hardcore porn, but no! A Quidditch Manual! XD)**

**Crack Moment of Concern no. 9: He yearned for his penis, only inches away from his right hand, but knew it was too much of a risk to grab it, even around such idiots.**

**I had more, honestly. I'm so weird.**

Now to my grateful wittering :D firstly **Imperial Mint **(I really wish Lovely Man-Love Time was a real time of day. I'd be there with bells on. Yeah, the Viola is annoying after a while :) hence why I gave up... and I love uber long reviews! ^^) **Horsegirl7 **(Aww, Sevvy, he's just such a cutie. More Crack moments in this chapter, that's for sure :P) **Merthurtilidie** (Yes, they are giant wimps. But we love them really :D) **Yana5 **('Course he does! :D) **yAoI-tEnShI1412 **(Aww, cut Harry some slack, he can't help being a Gryffindork, it's in his nature XD or, well, my characterisation, whichever) **Wolfewood **(Thank you so much! I am chuffed. I also really wish that Draco was real... *sigh* he'd be so lovely.) **egoXlockheart** (Waaah! I just saw Alice in Wonderland today! I want to fall down a rabbit hole and slay a jabberwocky. That or just BE the cheshire cat, because he's awesome. And yep, finally something on the lovin' side of things XD haha) **ennui deMorte **(Merci beaucoup! Je deteste l'ennui! Et aussi le mort, naturallement. Sorry, but I haven't written any French in a long time so that could be all wrong :P) **TKaulittz's girl** (It will happen at some point! :D Thanks for reviewing!) **GiselleMarx** (Hoorah! A supporter for my tragically slow development! :D Thank you!) **Msedward** (Yep, the wolf is knowledgeable, apart from being a crazy beast. I suppose its meant to represent all of Draco's desires, not just the werewolf's desire for bloodlust.) **Ex Mentis **(Magical mirror in my hand sex? XD sounds like a PWP storyline...) **ForeverJynxed** (Yep, Harry, our resident little emo kid, we love him so. Thank you for all the compliments! XD) **Hermione and Draco is like PBJ **(I was never aware of there being a verb for AK! Although I think I should be a bit more scared that Snape's looking for me :P ah well.) **spinner313** (thanks for the review!) **Ninny-na **(Thank you for the review and time spent reading! A curse is a bit harsh thought, how about a nice tripping jinx instead?) **miss quirky bookworm **(Yep, Harry had a rare moment of cowardice - at completely the wrong time! D: Thanks for the review ^^) **F4LL3N-1NT0-0BL1V10N **(You're in love with it?! :D I'm sure you two can get married, I don't mind. Thank you so much!) aaaand **3Love3** (I'm glad you like it! :D Drarry is just meant to be. And also making fun of Snape, teehee~)


	22. Returning

_Returning_

Hogwarts castle can appear to be many things. To the Muggles with unfortunate magic-blindness, it is a derelict and unsavoury looking old building crumbling down from its very edges to its heart. To a witch or wizard clueless enough not to know of it, it is an imposing collection of ageing stones buzzing with magical energy. To most students, it is a welcoming home of warm light that fills the heart with anticipation and a mellow satisfaction at being back for another year.

Harry felt the very latter as he approached the entrance hall, which was teeming with students in a blur of black cloaks, after the much less pleasant check for any possible dark artefact (or Weasley Wizards' Wheezes product) by the predictably grumpy Filch. The plan to get Draco into school undetected had gone without a hitch - he had left the still-invisible boy with a stoic Snape a few minutes earlier - and now he was free to relax for a few hours and enjoy watching the Sorting, listening to one of Dumbledore's very concise speeches and eating too much food at the welcoming feast.

Yet, throughout it all, thoughts of how Draco was managing with skulking down corridors and sorting out his new rooms persisted and would not leave his mind alone. _By now, I should be used to the sight of his face in my thoughts _he thought to himself with a wry smile, which went unnoticed by Ron who was dragooning his third helping of Toad in the Hole onto his plate and Hermione who was busy whispering to Ginny, who was staring at Dean Thomas, who was discussing Quidditch with Seamus Finnegan.

Feeling unnoticed enough; Harry's gaze honed in on the Slytherin table to try and gauge what was happening there. The changes were subtle, but easy to detect by a somewhat trained eye in the trivial Slytherin hierarchy - in Draco's usual seat was Theodore Nott, flanked by an unctuous looking Parkinson and a brooding Zabini on one side and Crabbe and Goyle on the other. It was clear who reigned as the new King of Slytherin.

He just hoped that Draco could at least find some sort of place in his house, even if it was unlikely that he'd ever rule over the idiots - others, Harry corrected himself - again any time soon.

He hoped in general that all the changes wreaking havoc in Draco's life from this day forward weren't going to overthrow him from everything, let alone his position in the monarchy.

***

Draco had gotten quite used to the idea of being invisible until Snape ordered him to be divested of "that insufferable cloak" and he felt all at once very exposed and vulnerable in the already darkening corridors leading down to the Slytherin common room he knew he wouldn't be entering for a long while. They stopped outside a room whose door was mostly hidden in the shadow of an alcove, (this effect most likely made more pronounced by magic) which had a small painting above it.

Draco strained his eyes to see what lay inside the portrait; it was a proud looking Centaur with a chestnut-brown coat and fiery eyes. _That's right_, he thought with a sneer, _another half-breed just like me._

"The room requires a password," Snape said imperiously, his deep voice echoing through the ghostly gloom common to the dungeons part of the school, giving his godson a sideways look with impatient dark eyes. Draco thought only a little while because of this before looking at the Centaur and capturing its attention with his eyes.

"The new password to this room will be _solor_," he instructed and the Centaur acknowledged his words with an inclination of its head.

"Now rest," Snape said more softly, in a voice Draco had heard so rarely it always sounded surreal, "and prepare yourself for the days ahead." With that he left, billowing cloaks visible even in the dusky light, and Draco did as he had been told, muttering the new password before opening the door and inspecting his new home.

The rooms were very reminiscent of the Slytherin common room and attached dorms, though a much smaller version. The first room he entered was octagonal shaped with a merrily crackling fireplace opposite him casting shadows onto green walls, a handsome cream-coloured settee with bending mahogany legs and a soft green throw covering it, two matching arm chairs facing each other with an exquisitely carved chessboard in between, a thick carpet that feet fairly sunk into, a dark-wood bookcase empty and gaping for tomes of knowledge, paintings of landscapes, stormy beaches and calming meadows, here and there, a silver chandelier adorning the ceiling with small candles flickering, two other doorways waiting to be walked into.

His tastes were further appealed to as he entered his bedroom - a bed very much like his four-poster in his old dorm sat in the middle of it looking very inviting, a large wardrobe with a quaint gold handle, a matching bedside table, his trunk sitting reassuringly on top of a rug decorated in intricate patterns of green, black and silver. The bathroom, the other side of the main room, was a standard affair of white and grey marble.

If anything it was much better than having to share a room with four other boys. Yet he knew the price this room came with, or more the price that the reason for this room came with - the housemates who had always revered him back would forever shun him now for being a pureblood made and shamed into a half-breed.

He went to sleep that night in his heavenly bed feeling more uncomfortable than ever. It didn't help that there still wasn't anybody there to stave off the bad dreams.

***

The morning after was so much harder than the night before. The walk to the Great Hall for breakfast had felt like a death march and only by sheer force of will did Draco put one foot in front of another until he landed in a seat at the very end of the long Slytherin table, very far away from any of the seventh years. If he had to sit by a pair of annoying fourth years and terrified looking first years, so be it.

The reaction to his arrival was immediate - a sweeping of eyes fell onto him, most from his own house, and the whispering was pushed violently into motion.

"What's he doing here?"

"Is that Malfoy?"

"Why wasn't he at the feast?"

"I hear he got turned into a werewolf..."

"No way! He shouldn't even be allowed back at school!"

"He's dangerous..."

"... disgusting..."

"... monster..."

The Draco of a few months ago would have stood up and put all the whisperers down with a self-important sneer and a few choice words of vocal devastation. The Draco now knew better - there was no way he could change what was happening, so had to sit back and let the insults and disgusted looks that would surely come inch by him. It was certainly humiliating, but inevitable.

He spent most of the time looking steadfastly down at his plate and trying to feed his sick stomach, but at one point risked a searching glance in a bid to try and find a face he knew wouldn't be whispering and taunting. Harry's answering smile to his fleeting look sent warmth branching into the coldness that had settled onto him like a covering of icy snow. He even managed to finish his toast after that without wanting to gag.

***

The malevolent comments lasted throughout the day, Harry could tell because he heard snippets of them all the time from breakfast to dinner. It had been especially bad in the lesson he had taken with Draco so far that day, Transfiguration, though McGonagall hadn't stood for too much whispering and chattering in her class.

Now was time for double Potions and Harry found his feet walking normally instead of trudging slowly to the dungeons as they had done every year previously - for he knew that Snape was no longer teaching Potions, but a man called Professor Slughorn who had apparently come out of retirement. The man, who had an enormous moustache and belly to match, had an immediate reaction to Harry entering the room just behind Hermione.

"Harry Potter, m'boy!" His voice positively boomed across the room, much to Harry's embarrassment. "An honour to finally meet you!" The man strode up to him, his stomach wobbling and moustache quivering below beady eyes, and clapped him on the shoulder, hard. "Of course, I taught your mother, Lily, years ago... such a talent, she was wonderful to teach..."

Whilst he went off on a starry-eyed speech Harry managed to slip into a seat next to Hermione and stare at his knees until the lesson finally started. So perhaps Slughorn wouldn't be a very enjoyable teacher to have either, but at least he wasn't as evil as Snape had always been. He was just... very eccentric.

He glanced around the room as Slughorn began describing Potions, looking to see if any familiar faces were there. He and Hermione were the only Gryffindors, Ernie Macmillan and a girl he didn't recognize represented Hufflepuff, a small sea of unrecognizable Ravenclaws included Padma Patil. There were only three Slytherins - Theodore Nott, looking extremely pleased with himself, Blaise Zabini and Draco. Harry couldn't help but notice that Draco was alone at his desk and felt a pang of... of lots of things. But he knew he couldn't voluntarily sit next to him without attracting suspicion.

He tuned back into the teacher's laborious speech just as he had finished with a large smile. "So, let's start with the first Potion on the list! Turn to page 37 of your books and get into pairs..." Harry fully paid attention once Hermione had poked him in the side.

"Don't expect me to hold you up all year!" She admonished with a small smile and Harry nodded fervently. He really would try this year, what with a new teacher to give him a chance in a subject he had never been happy in before.

They were both interrupted when a Ravenclaw came over to their desk. "Slughorn said there were too many people at my desk," she explained nervously, "do you think... maybe...?" She looked pleadingly to Hermione, who understood instantly. It took Harry a little while, but he got there - she didn't want to sit next to Draco and was looking to the brave Gryffindors for help. A glance to his left confirmed that Draco knew what was going on too, though he hardly showed it as he flicked more fiercely through his textbook.

"It's okay," Harry said quietly, trying to sound as pained as the others would expect, "you can work with Hermione."

She smiled at him in gratitude. "Thank you, I hope you understand..." another nervous glance towards Draco and she sat down in the seat Harry had just vacated.

Harry made himself walk slowly and reluctantly over to Draco's desk and plonked down all his stuff in a heap. "Malfoy," he said in a cold voice, but sent him a small smile at the same time. Draco replied ostensibly with an emotionless nod and a sneer, but lightly brushed his fingers across the back of Harry's hand behind the desk. Harry had a suspicion that Draco knew exactly what it would do to him as he shivered. He was also glad that there was nobody working behind them.

"As long as you don't slack, Potter, I suppose you can work with me," Draco said in a perfect Malfoy sneer and part of Harry wanted to laugh at how ludicrous it sounded now, when he knew how wonderfully emotional Draco's voice could be when it wasn't covered by pride or falseness.

So they got to work and sharply, knowing they were already a fair bit behind everybody else. Draco strode off to the ingredients cupboard before Harry could volunteer, so he heated up the cauldron instead. And then waited longer than was normal before seeing Draco come out again with an armful of ingredients... and a half-concealed look of anger on his face that soon faded into nothing. Harry's eyes searched his out, letting them silently ask what he knew he couldn't say aloud, but Draco didn't betray a thing as he walked past a snickering Nott, who had also just been in the cupboard. Harry would have to ask him later.

Draco was deathly silent throughout the whole lesson, chopping, slicing, grinding, stirring and checking the potion with a precise efficiency as Harry tried to keep up with him. There was no denying that Draco was far better at Potions than he was. Then at the end of the lesson, where their pair were pronounced to have the best potion of the class, much to Hermione's chagrin and Harry's seeming as he was getting most of the credit that was undue to him, Draco packed up with lightning speed and left the room in mere seconds, leaving Harry to stare after him until Hermione snapped him out of it.

He just couldn't wait until he could implement his plan that would commence after dinner that evening.

***

Draco forewent dinner in the Great Hall, so full of judging eyes, so that he could escape to his room that little bit earlier. He sighed vocally in relief as he deposited his bag haphazardly on the floor in favour of collapsing on the couch. He didn't even have enough energy to scream with the anger he felt, thanks to little sleep the night before and having to keep his every reaction simmering inside of him all day.

He stayed there for a few hours, not having the willpower to do anything but too annoyed to think about sleeping. When a knock came on the door he thought it would be the last straw. Even the wolf growled tiredly as he rose as if from the dead and stumbled over to the door.

"Who is it?" He asked the Centaur, who was already looking down at him expectantly for the question.

"Harry Potter." It answered and he blinked. For some reason beyond him, Harry had been one of the last people Draco had been expecting. He had truthfully been expecting somebody like Nott and his new cronies, _Draco's_ cronies, coming back to taunt him some more. Harry was a relief compared to them.

He opened the door and saw nobody standing there. For a moment he panicked, instincts kicking in to slam the door, before he heard a swish of fabric and Harry was standing there for mere seconds before strolling past him and quirking his head towards the door.

"Please close it, I don't want any of the teachers seeing me" Harry said quickly and Draco closed the door quietly in agreement before turning around and surveying his guest, who looked a bit out of breath but none the worse for it. He felt jealous - he wished he could look so rested and healthy.

"You look like crap," Harry observed and Draco rolled his eyes, feeling a shoot of amusement growing even through his general malaise.

"Thanks for the compliment," he replied, walking over again to the invitingly comfortable sofa. Harry joined him with a relaxed sigh.

"This is way better than the Gryffindor common room, except for the colour scheme of course," he noted, "even your sofa is comfier than any of our chairs."

Draco gave him a disapproving look. "You can't fault the colour scheme, it's perfect. Though I assume, rightly, that you haven't got a clue about interior design. It's an art, not simply choosing a colour you like."

"But you like green, don't you?"

"I do." Draco admitted, seeing where Harry was taking this.

"There's not much beyond green here, Draco." Harry sent him a mischievous smile, but Draco refused to be thwarted by it or his pathetic argument.

"See the cream? The mahogany? The silver and black? All accented tones to the green. It's the best colour scheme - no doubt your common room is imbued with garish reds and gold."

"Well, you would see it as garish," Harry conceded, walking over to the chess table. He sent Draco a concerned glance that contrasted oddly to his challenging tone. "In a fit state to lose to me today?"

As he slipped into the chair opposite the one Harry had claimed, Draco felt it strongly as they slipped back into their evening routine, even if in a completely different place. He knew then that he would cling onto these times with Harry, even if it pained and embarrassed them both, because it was something good in a life currently filled with displeasure and bitterness. Harry felt like the jutting bank he was clinging onto in the sheer desperation not to be torn away and drowned in the resentment he felt for the life he would lead from this day onwards.

***

"Checkmate," Harry said later on in surprise - he hardly ever won - and looked up to find Draco staring at him intensely, fingers still loosely clasped around a squirming pawn. He gulped, feeling his Adam's apple bob, and stared back even if the look Draco was giving him was searing in its strength. "What?" he eventually asked, voice cracked. Draco looked down; Harry's shoulders eased and sank.

"Will you come every evening?" His voice was barely there, words being spoken down to his hands that rested tensely on the board, and Harry knew how much it took for Draco to ask questions like this.

"Of course," he said, "you know I will."

Draco inclined his head then, strands of his hair coming loose and arcing down over his face. Harry let himself look then, drink in the sight, from Draco's lowered eyelids to the unique curve of his mouth. His straight-lined nose, his soft yet set jaw, his prominent collarbones showing under the few shirt buttons opened. The mark left, red and hardly faded, from the bite that changed his fate forever. Then Draco looked back up and he tore his gaze away reluctantly.

"You should go," Draco said, eyes looking pointedly at the clock, which pointed to a late hour, "you need to get some sleep at least."

"But what about...?" Harry didn't finish the sentence, knowing Draco would understand. Harry usually waited until he had gone to sleep.

"Not tonight," Draco said, "Maybe tomorrow. It's too late now." His eyes were telling a different story, but Harry didn't press on the matter. Though, before getting up, he reached out and touched Draco's shoulders with his fingertips, ignoring how good even such a simple touch like that felt.

"Dreams are just dreams," he said before getting up and forcing himself to turn around and walk away, putting on his invisibility cloak in the process.

Draco watched him with hungry eyes before he disappeared from view and left him in a room that had suddenly become much colder, much darker, than it had been before.

* * *

**A/N: Only Draco would use words like 'imbued'... and I totally dragooned the word 'dragoon' off a Lomonaaeren story I was reading recently; she's just that fabulous a writer, I steal her words!**

**And I find it so hard to make 'coming back to school' chapters interesting, sorry about that! More exciting plot developments to come in the future, I promise you there. Less colour schemes and chess XD Oh, and for those interested, 'solor' is Latin for solace. My Latin skills are extremely basic, so don't expect much more than that!**

**Many thanks to these people for putting up with my plot procrastination...** Ninny-na** (Draco is a rather amusing boy...) **egoXlockheart** (That made me laugh out loud! Parents can be so embarrassing =_= but guitar hero rocks... and I can play a little guitar, so that's okay, but it's guitar hero drums that make me feel like a fool. I can't even play drums on the game XD I have had amusing ideas about my crack moments... and Harry and Draco rolling around on the floor sounds like cracky goodness too! And I like rising from the dead, but I hope I'm not an Inferi. That would suck D:) **GiselleMarx** (Yay for torturing Harry! It's my favourite fanfic hobby alongside digressing and making characters angsty.) **Kokoro5050 **(Perhaps I should just go into writing crack instead? It does sound tempting... AND YOU ARE MY 200TH REVIEWER! KUDOS TO YOU!) **Merthurtilidie **(Embracing their emotions... or each other? I know which I'd prefer - BOTH! :D) **Yana5, funnyducky** (Sneak reading? I'm honoured! I'd totally do that with fanfiction in lessons if I was in a computer room for any of them... *sigh*) **aconiteblack** (No worries, I'm not offended, Ron was being a bit of a douche, but he does get better! Thanks for reviewing!) **koryssa-kory-** (here's more! :D Thanks for the review.) **Byzantea** (Thank you so much! *bows in gratitude* I'm really glad you're enjoying the story!)** magnusXalec **(Thank you for the review! As bad as this sounds, I'm not sure yet on when they'll get together... it will happen at some point.) **Arcus Pluvius **(I agree! Please read this one too! XD Thanks for the review and glorious beeeaaams!)** miss quirky bookworm** (Be my guest, they need a little push... of the violent persuasion XD) **Wolfy Pup** (What a cute username! :D Thank you for the review!) **mannd1068 **(Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm glad that I'm getting a character right, I always worry about that :P) **

**And many thanks to everyone who's put me on alert! Passing the 300 mark is not something to be sniffed at. Not that I'm bragging... okay, maybe I am a bit... but yes, thank you! :D I've never had so much support before on a story, it's wonderful beyond words.  
**


	23. Adapting

_Adapting_

A quiet swish of robes announced the expected visitor, causing Narcissa to rise from her chair with a practiced grace, though her eyes flew quickly to Severus, searching him even before she spoke.

"Do you have any news?" She asked him, voice low but body unnaturally still as if a simple movement would stop her from catching all of his precious words with its loud rustle. A rare feeling of compassion, something he rarely let himself feel to people of the present anymore in fear of crumbling under such emotion, seeped into Severus and settled uncomfortably. He knew what it was like to miss someone.

"He got to school without interruption." Severus said and she let out a small, almost silent huff of breath. One could almost call it a relieved sigh.

"And now that the students know he's there?" She asked, bringing her lips together again with effort. There were so many more questions to ask, but they had such limited time before the Dark Lord would start suspecting something and send out his hearing to them.

"He's settling surprisingly well. The suffering has matured him if anything."

Narcissa let herself smile. "Good. Come back as soon as you can." They had both felt the shivering unease of unwanted ears listening. Severus nodded, saying nothing more, and left. Narcissa knew that the mere snippet of conversation that had been heard was enough for her to be questioned, but she vowed, as she always did, that she would not quail under the Dark Lord's terrifying gaze boring into her. She had a son to protect.

She sank into the chair, body unfurling, eyes flickering closed. Things would only get harder for the Malfoy family from now on; she could feel it in her tired, tired bones.

***

The rest of that school week wasn't much better than the first day. Draco looked back grudgingly at how this process had happened every year before – by now he would have been lording it around the school, strutting and swaggering and sneering, letting everyone know his family power and fear it. There was none of that now. No fearful respect was ever aimed at him, only glares and hissed insults and disgusted snarls. In a way he missed the blissful days of arrogant ignorance.

Yet he was learning to adapt to the new life that had been thrown at him. Always having leant towards studiousness, now he focussed on work with a saturated concentration, always wanting to know more, understand more. Be worth something in intelligence at least. Sometimes, though, he did notice the way that teachers, not all of them, would avoid his outstretched hand for somebody else's. After a while he didn't even let that knowledge sting him – there was other knowledge out there that was so much more worthy to be acknowledged.

He also treated the discrimination, both blatant and subtle, towards him as a learning process. Very quickly had he gone from what he now knew to be a blood-purist bigot to a person (or beast) discriminated against himself. He was getting a taste of his own bitter Potion in the most extreme way.

Not everything was bad, though. He had also acutely noticed Harry's first-week-back game plan – every first lesson he would turn up, not late, but last so that he would have to sit next to Draco if no other seats were available. He took this all with an air of annoyance, but always saved a side-smile and an errant touch to the hand for Draco to let him know what he already knew – it was all a ruse. He still welcomed the touches. This plan led them to sit next to each other in Potions, Transfiguration and also to share a bench in Herbology with Hermione.

Also, now that he was a so-called "filthy monster" there was very little expected of him. For the first time in his life he could live without consulting the hefty mental manual of Malfoy for every little thing he did. His being infected was a tainted and hateful version of freedom from a life where _he_ used to be hateful. In a hideous way it all made sense.

That didn't stop the way his heart would constrict at times when he realised how much he missed his mother and the grand Manor he had once called home. How he missed the loyal protection of a powerful family. Now he was on his own, with nobody to call family. It was a chilling prospect.

Many bad things happened that week. Draco knew they would, but still a floodgate of disappointment had opened and he spent the whole time trying to cling on for life and not get swept away. The hatred of his fellow students and dislike even from teachers was bad enough. His loss of status was also terrible. Not being able to play Quidditch anymore was another blow – half-humans weren't entitled to play competitively. Not that anyone would want him on the team anyway. Quidditch had been a huge part of his life, albeit partly to beat Harry, and now it was gone. So much was gone to the tides of change.

Perhaps less surprisingly than it should have felt, the thing that kept him from drowning was Harry. For every nasty comment there was Harry's amusing remarks, for every teacher who avoided him there was Harry's kind laughter. He knew he should be getting so obsessed with the boy, but it was hard when there was nothing else pleasant to think about. He just hoped he wouldn't end up like one of the besotted girls who often mooned over Harry with their sickening chatter and shrieks of laughter.

Friday evening eventually came around and Draco breathed a sigh of relief once he had holed himself up in his room. It wasn't long before a knock came on the door.

"Harry – " the Centaur began in its formal tone but Draco didn't even let him finish.

"Come in," he called out, having keyed Harry in to the ward on the door so that his touch on the handle and Draco's acceptance would automatically let him in. Harry didn't do as he usually did every evening (recline on the couch and generally laze around) so Draco looked up from his book with a raised eyebrow. "Is something the… matter?" He finished his sentence in a confused tone – why was Harry wearing so much clothing for being indoors? "Are my rooms not warm enough for you?"

Harry positively beamed at him. Draco was glad he was sitting down. "Not that," he said excitedly, "we're going to the Quidditch pitch. Come on."

Draco blinked. "The Quidditch pitch? How come?"

"To fly around, you silly tosser, what else?" Harry began to busy himself with picking up a jumper Draco had left neatly folded on a chair and chucking it at him. Draco caught it just before it landed right in his face. He scowled at Harry.

"I am not a tosser, you imbecile. Why would we do that? I'm not allowed to-"

"Don't be an arse. So you can't play competitively, but will a casual fly around the pitch hurt anybody? No." Harry was now practically tugging at his arm. "Put on the jumper. It's cold out there already."

"All right, all right. It's not my fault you're an impatient dunderhead." He dragged it over his head. Looked quizzically at Harry. "It'll be just us, right?"

Harry gave one of his small endearing smiles, which Draco had begun to suspect was used to persuade people into doing whatever he wanted. "Of course, I'm captain of Gryffindor. I can chuck out anyone there… and I'm not a dunderhead."

"So abusing power isn't beneath you then?" Draco quipped, standing up and walking past Harry to the door. He didn't want to admit that Harry had persuaded him with the prospects of fresh air sailing past him and also being able to see Harry fly again. It was always been a wonderful sight, even if before he had only admitted that begrudgingly.

"Well, I may have booked the Quidditch pitch for a night more than I needed to," Harry said, stopping him to cover them both with the Invisibility Cloak, "So hopefully nobody else will be there."

Draco could have frozen and then scurried back to his room, like a little scared voice in his mind was telling him to. But he didn't – he couldn't hide away from life forever. Plus, he was rather enjoying being so close to Harry.

_You still won't admit it?_ The wolf spoke as if it had woken from a deep sleep – Draco had been far too busy or stressed to listen to it much recently.

_Admit what?_ He asked tersely, though he knew exactly what. It was what made his heart raced, what made his mind think up all sorts of ridiculous notions, what made the wolf growl in suppressed desire.

_What you want. _The wolf stressed the point anyway_. I know all of your desires, all of them. You want this more than anything._

Draco said nothing back to it, instead concentrating on keeping up with Harry, who was almost jogging in his eagerness to get to the pitch. They reached it both lightly out of breath, exhalations mingling silver mist in the cold night air. Looking around to check that nobody else was there, deeming that nobody was, Harry tore the cloak off them and stowed it away in his pocket. Draco felt terribly exposed now – what if somebody was there?

"What if someone else comes here whilst we're flying?" He asked, trying to keep his nervousness to a minimum. Harry gave him a reassuring look.

"Don't worry about that, Hermione gave me a spell," He had fished his wand out of the same pocket, "_Velieris Visio_!"

Draco felt a strange, almost uncomfortable warmth momentarily travel over his face. "What did that do?" He asked, wondering when he stopped mistrusting a wand, any wand, being pointed in his direction.

"It's a spell to hide your face in somebody else's," Harry replied, "well that's what Hermione said. To everyone but me and yourself you should look like Ron right now."

"What?" Draco grimaced. "Couldn't you have picked somebody else?"

"It could only have been Ron. Hermione doesn't fly on brooms and nobody else knows about our friendship."

Draco made a moue of distaste. "I suppose you're right. That doesn't make it any better though."

"Right, let's go flying!"

The words sent a thrill of anticipation through Draco – he had been wondering over the past few days when he would next be able to fly on a broom. Harry went to the storage cupboard and collected two slightly battered looking school brooms. "Here," he said before chucking one at Draco, who caught it as a reflex after a millisecond of thought.

"Where's your Firebolt?" He asked as they both mounted the brooms.

Harry shrugged, "I don't need to fly my Firebolt all the time." The last few words were torn almost out of hearing as he kicked off the ground and rose into the sky, arcing as gracefully as a newly freed bird before pelting down into a reckless dive. All within a few fleeting seconds. It took only that long for Draco to join him, the same adrenaline desire to dive and swoop and get to dizzying heights taking him over, and it wasn't long before they were racing each other, weaving in and out of one another's intricately unplanned paths whilst managing miraculously not to crash. It wasn't as if Draco hadn't realised that Harry wasn't flying his Firebolt because he didn't want to look superior next to the shoddy broom Draco had, but he didn't feel offended about it… more touched. Draco would not have thought of the same thing at all, if their positions had been reversed. Though if their positions _had_ been reversed from bite onwards then Draco would have just laughed and jeered at Harry for his misfortunes. It was funny how things worked out like that.

After an hour or two, the dusky evening having finally decided to settle into the arms of pitch-black night, they lowered themselves onto the ground again and the relief of the earth's support entwined with the heady rush of the air was intoxicating.

"Was that good?" Harry asked, though when he looked at Draco's flushed cheeks, shining eyes and curved lip he could tell what the answer would be.

"Very," Draco replied, "I haven't flown like that in a while." _Or been outside for more than ten minutes at a time in general_, he thought to himself.

"You don't have to thank me for coming up with the idea or anything," Harry said with mock-sarcasm whilst he walked back to the changing rooms to put his broom away. Draco caught up with him.

"No, I don't," he agreed in similar tone, "Potter."

Harry placed the broom back into the cupboard with the care of a professional Quidditch player replacing his expensive racing broom back into its velvety box. "All right then, Malfoy." He shot Draco a mischievous, challenging smile.

"Hey," Draco took the bait without thinking properly, "since when did you call me Malfoy?"

"You always call me Potter." Harry was staring at the broom. The challenge was definitely present in his tone.

Draco blinked, getting it. "Not always…" he paused, "Harry."

Harry treated him to another of his brilliant smiles. It was infectious and Draco found himself smiling back. Harry then took it a whole step further by pulling Draco into a fierce and haphazard embrace which left Draco quite happily winded and his broom almost on the floor except for his weak grip on it.

He found himself awkwardly enveloped by arms, his cheek pushed into Harry's neck due to his bent head, arms dangling uselessly. It was oddly comfortable.

Harry released him too soon, his cheeks red, and turned away to look out onto the pitch.

"What was that for?" Draco asked quietly, slowly putting his broom back into the cupboard and closing it. Harry shrugged.

"I felt like it."

Draco's response was quick but not mean. "Keep your emotions to yourself, Harry, they're far too Gryffindor."

Harry laughed, though Draco could tell he was still embarrassed. They did both know a lot more about Harry's feelings towards Draco than that, after all, though neither of them ever brought it up.

They walked back to Draco's room, once again cloaked and hidden, in companionable silence. Just before bidding one another good night, Harry whispered the counter-spell. Draco had almost forgotten that to everybody else out there he would have looked like Ron. It felt much nicer, even if it made no difference to him, to look like himself!

***

A/N: Yay! Update time! A quick one mind you, but life is like that. Sorry. And the Quidditch pitch scene? Clichéd, but I don't care – I love it! :D

Your reviews were definitely an impetus for me to get going and write a new chapter, they're so encouraging. Though I don't know when I'll next be able to update – I have a battalion of excuses (mostly various exams) that I won't bore you with.

**Crack moment no. 9: He finished his sentence in a confused tone – why was Harry wearing so much clothing? Draco was used to him wearing nothing at all.**

I think maybe I need to stop with these. They're warping my mind (oh, who am I kidding, I'm beyond help in the brain area.)

The amount of reviews I got for the last chapter has to be a record for me. Thank you all so much!

**egoXlockheart **(Well, you had the most intriguing things for me to comment on :D That's a lot of pronouns you have there, but no worries, sometimes I get that when writing slash. So many he's! Yet I'm not a huge fan of stuff like "he watched the blonde walk away" or "he pulled the Slytherin closer" to use Draco as an example – blegh.) **ForeverJynxed **(your reviews make my day! :D Sorry, I'll try to bash myself less. I tend to do that with my writing. And happy dances, yay! I really need to create my own.) **like a message** (thank you for reviewing! I do really value them – and you don't have to leave one for every chapter, but it's really nice to hear what you think and to know you're reading my story!) **Ninny-na** (personally, I love the idea of DeanxSeamus, but I think that for this story it will be GinnyxDean. Or I suppose I could just lob her in a ditch somewhere. I haven't decided yet…) **koryssa-kory-** (Oh, I assure you there will be hugging. Whoo! And I'm replying again, go me :D) **ninjadragons** (Thank you vair much for the review, but I'm afraid I'm going at my own pace on the Drarry front…) **Msedward** (teehee… I just totally got the image of you stomping up to the Hogwarts students and saying "Bad students! Leave Draco alone!" I'm sure he'd appreciate it… ish…) **Funnyducky** (I realised when I read your comment that I'd been neglecting the wolf! So I gave him a little bit for this chapter :D and I like your idea, but I don't know where I'd include it… we shall see…) **Yana5** (Don't worry, Draco's a tough boy) **F4LL3N-1NT0-0BL1V10N **(If only people could legally marry stories, then I'd totally let you! :D) **m. **(Wow! Dedicated reading! XD Thank you!) **OvenBased** (Another dedicated reader! Awesome! And I decided that outing Draco immediately as a Gryffindor lover would be a bit out of character for him, also the Golden Trio (even Ron? I don't know) are trying to protect him from more hatred from Slytherin. Plus it means more sneaking around for Harry and Draco :D) **ricky, miss quirky bookworm** (Oh, I just meant that Harry would be planning a visit to Draco that evening, sorry XD plan officially over now) **Andrew** (I like that bit too I am trying to put funny bits into this story, I find it lightens the angst. Thanks for reviewing!) **.ink, Merthurtilidie** (Lmao! Too true! Though Draco did show a sensitive side from book 6 onwards… I think that's what inspired hope in the rabid fanfic writers.) **RoliviaxKipping **(intriguing name! What ever could it mean?) **Kokoro5050** (Lomonaaeren is what got me into fanfiction. 'Nuff said :D) **Byzantea, Star-Struck Inu** (Inuyasha? Yay!) **IchigoPudding** (So many reviews! Thankyou very muchly for your support) **IchigoRengi, Arcus Pluvius** (Okay, my decision is that the bite mark is very low down on his neck, half on shoulder and half on collarbone really, and that you can just see the tip of it when he's got a school shirt on. I think I'm a bit obsessed with this… ho-hum) **Imperial Mint** (I like your trend – gives for more review reading! I like it especially when I wait a few days after posting a chapter so I get a little pile of reviews. Go to biting town? Your reviews make me laugh out loud XD oh how I wish that could happen… *sigh* but I don't want to get Draco into trouble.)

Ridiculously-long-author's-note-officially-over-now-k-thnx-bye!


	24. Admitting

Remus had spent one long month among what he saw as the scum of the earth. Not very often did he think of fellow humans in such derogatory terms, but with these people it would the only applicable name to give them - the way they would send out a scout to catch a wild animal that they would eat raw, even when in human form, the way they discussed biting and killing with a reverent gleam in fevered eyes, the way they saw Fenrir Greyback as the God of Wolves incarnate. All of it sickened him right from his parched throat to his dirty toes.

He had infiltrated the group of lupines with relative ease - Fenrir had never thought to do thorough background checks on pack members or even ask names most of the time - and had soon worked his way up the pack to being one of Greyback's most trusted followers. That meant that he was allowed into even the highest of meetings - if a scrabble of dirty men and women in a tattered tent could be called a proper meeting - and heard all of their plans and even in vague passing the news they received from the Death Eaters headquarters.

Greyback was the most sickening of all. Those teeth, saccharine sour yellowed blunt fangs protruding over stretched taut, taunting lips, his mad, gleaming eyes, and the stink of him. The memories of Fenrir had haunted his childhood; his bite had caused so much pain for himself and now for Draco. Still causing pain for Draco, if the subject matter of the meetings was anything to go by.

Everything he heard concerning Draco disturbed him more day by day. He had learnt that just biting Draco had not been all that Voldemort had granted Fenrir - he had wanted Fenrir to keep Draco like a slave and brutally teach him to be a cold-blooded, hot-tempered killer even more destructive than Fenrir himself. Fenrir had been unimaginably angry when he had found out about Draco's escape - he had nearly killed one of the minor Death Eaters in charge of watching over the boy before remembering his promise to Voldemort not to harm his other followers.

Ever since he had been plotting feverishly on how to get Draco back and under his vice-like control - Remus had watched many times with a surging feeling of anger and dismay at the look of unhidden lust and possession on Fenrir's face whenever Draco came up in conversation, which was frequent. Remus would keep Draco away from Fenrir if it were the last thing he ever did.

Now they were in one of those meetings, Fenrir and Remus, a petite yet fierce woman called Myra, a big brute called Anthony and a bandy-legged, sly, shifty man called Aaron who acted as Fenrir's shadow, following him everywhere, hungry for power and possibly betrayal. Remus still hadn't gotten used to the stink of raw meat and body odour that penetrated his nose whenever he was in the close tent.

"So," Fenrir said in his low, savage growl, "the boy is at Hogwarts now. This goes well with the Dark Lord's plans."

Aaron's eyes lit up. "There are new plans, Lord Fenrir?"

"Yes," Fenrir cast him a glance before going back to picking the deer skin out of his teeth with one long nail, "The Dark Lord has informed me of them, but I cannot inform you of them. They are too important for you."

Remus' glimmer of hope died once again - Fenrir would only ever talk in passing of the plans that would help the Order so much if Remus knew them. He was not even that trusting of his favourite followers, after all. Aaron seemed just as dismayed as Remus felt.

"Of course, my Lord," he said, eyes flashing before casting themselves downward.

"Are we to storm Hogwarts and capture the Malfoy boy, my lord?" Piped up Myra, brightening from her usual brooding demeanour, "with all those children there?" Her voice mellowed to a dreamy tone, "Children are the best ones to get." Remus felt the bile rising in his throat. He was glad that Fenrir thought him to be quiet and stupid - there was no way he could say things like that, even as lies.

"We shall see what the Dark Lord wishes for us," Fenrir said enigmatically, but his smile showed a lot of teeth, "but if we can capture the boy then he may reward us for our work."

A collective cheer rose up the slanted sides of the tent - more often than not did everybody complain that they had gone far too long without a human victim and about the poorer quality of having to hunt animals instead. They had been instructed to lay low for a few months, so it was unquestionable that they could bite anyone for a while, but they would wait. Hogwarts would be the perfect place for a pack of starving wolves, Remus thought with a shudder.

"Yes, my Lord," Myra said with zeal, a rush of madness clouding her eyes. She was beginning to remind him of a mangier, dirtier Bellatrix Lestrange.

The meeting was then announced over with a lazy wave of Fenrir's terrifying hand and Remus once again breathed the fresh air of their protected part of the forest as he exited the tent. It was a pity he could not tell the Order the whereabouts of the wolf hideout - Fenrir was the keeper of the Fidelius charm one of the Death Eaters had put upon the place. He could only tell the Order to strengthen the wards of Hogwarts considerably - that would tell them enough.

Once again he thought of Draco Malfoy, the boy bitten and with so few choices left now. He could either surrender to Voldemort and become a slave or fight against him and considerably risk his life. Remus hoped that he would make the right choice in the end.

000

Harry had been walking out of a Transfiguration lesson, on his way to lunch, when the first note had come to him in the hand of a small, awed looking second year boy.

"Harry Potter," he had called out, voice almost a squeak, "I have a message for you."

Harry had blinked a couple of times, and then reached out for the formal looking note pressed into his palm. The boy had then nervously scuttled away, looking for a dark corner to hide in. Harry had learned to stop noticing when people acted this way around him; otherwise he would be permanently bemused. As bemused as he felt on opening the note.

_Harry,_

_You are to come to my office on Monday night at 8 'o clock. There are important things to be discussed._

_Dumbledore_

What important things? Something to do with Voldemort? Something to do with the Order? Something to do with Draco? Something else? All these questions ran through his mind as he tucked the note into his pocket, feeling it burn a hole of interest into his skin.

Draco had been loitering in the empty classroom until everybody else had left before sidling up to Harry, knowing that as soon as somebody else appeared they would have to walk away from one another. Even Ron and Hermione had gotten used to leaving Harry at the end of lessons now in tacit awareness.

"What was that all about?" he asked, head tilted slightly to one side, eyes ablaze with a similar curiosity. Harry tried to refrain from thinking how lovely he looked when he answered. Such things were ridiculous to think, no matter how many times they popped into his head.

"I'm not sure," Harry replied with a shrug, "Dumbledore wants to see me for some reason." He wasn't sure whether Dumbledore would want other people knowing yet.

"Well," Draco mused, "It must be something important." If he was nervous about it he didn't show it, but Harry had noticed how Draco tended to listen intently whenever anything to do with Dumbledore or the Order or Voldemort was brought up, which wasn't often as Harry liked to treat his time in Draco's rooms as a break from all the bad things that life had to throw at him, such as defeating a powerful Dark Lord or the tremors of soul-encompassing grief that still passed through him over every errant thought of his lost god father.

Draco suddenly sprung away from him in a fluid movement, as water bounces off the face of a rock, and Harry looked around for a few seconds until he heard voices from the opposite ends of the corridor. He looked back to Draco, who was already striding away. How could he have sensed other people there so quickly?

Harry walked past the group of Ravenclaws trying valiantly not to glare at them for the unwitting interruption. He supposed that he would be seeing Draco that night anyway, but somehow those hours of time each evening didn't seem like long enough any more.

Draco was now used to the insults hurled at him whenever he was anywhere, any time. Now, knowing that he wasn't going to fight back in the venomous way in which he used to cast people down with a few words, the other students had grown bolder and more cruel. Today was three Gryffindor boys, probably younger than him; tomorrow it would be someone different. All the faces tended to blur.

"Hey Malfoy," one of them called, "What are you doing here?" That sparked it all off.

"Shouldn't you be in Care of Magical creatures so the class can study you?" Another one called, elbowing the first with his elbow and causing them both to laugh.

The third one piped up next, "But who'd want to take care of a dirty werewolf?"

"Yeah! Put him in Defence Against the Dark Arts instead..."

"They can practice fighting him off!"

"What time is it, Mr. Wolf?"

"Mangy, filthy wolf, can't even tell the time-"

"Stupid wolf, shouldn't be in school, monsters like you should be put down-"

They could have been anyone; the words could have been anything. But they still hurt. They still did for he was still too weak and let them burrow their way in and affect him.

"Oi," shouted out a different voice, one that rang through him and he recognized, "Bugger off you little gits!" Draco could have laughed as the boys all scattered and retreated down the corridor. He didn't even bother facing Weasley as he came up to his side, a respectable distance between them. "Why don't you just tell them to piss off?"

Draco made no reply to that. There was no reply to make. "I thought you were supposed to leave me be," he said instead. Harry had illuminated him on the Golden Trio's little plan about him.

Ron looked bashful then, Draco could see it from the corner of his eye. "Hermione said we should discourage fellow Gryffindors from saying stuff like that. Besides, I'm a prefect." He shot Draco a defiant glance, still probably convinced that Draco was going to reply with some scathing remark about his Weasley hair or Weasley lack of money. Draco wasn't going to.

"I didn't think you would mind people saying stuff like that to me," Draco said, emotionless, "what with all the things I said to you." It was his version of an apology; even Weasley seemed to recognize that.

"Nobody deserves that," he said, "Even ferrety gits like you." Yet it wasn't said with venom, more cautious amusement. Draco would not have reacted to it even if it had been said as a murderous hiss - 'ferrety git' sounded like a vial of sunshine compared to some of the things people had been saying to him recently.

Draco smiled resignedly back to Ron's testing-the-water grin, the foreign movement stretching underused muscles in his mouth and jaw. It had been a while since he had smiled to anybody who wasn't Harry and his smiles to Harry always seemed so much more private and meaningful. Nothing like this throwaway movement of gratitude Draco didn't want to admit he actually felt towards Ron Weasley.

Weasley had done a nice thing, Draco admitted as they walked away from one another without exchanging another word, but that was just three young boys mollified and scared off. There was still nearly the entire school to go and the masses were harder to ignore, let alone defeat. Draco would just have to get even more thick-skinned and let their words pass over him. There wouldn't always be somebody around to stick up for him.

000

Draco slipped into a nightmare seemingly as soon as he slipped into sleep. Awareness of the room, of conscious thought, of rationality, of Harry, faded as he entered a terrible unreality that felt as real as the heart beating erratically in his chest.

He was killing them all again, over and over, watching everybody he had cared for and everybody he cared for now falling in slow, bloody motion, eyes glassy and mouths gaping the relief of death after a wild and vindictive mauling. In the dream he battled between two voices calling to him, one his own, scared and wailing for him to stop, another Fenrir Greyback's, he could identify the low, guttural growl now, pushing him to continue. _Scratch, bite, rip, stab, tear, kill..._

Then he was transported to that room again, though this time it had distorted and changed into the room he slept in at Hogwarts. There was someone sleeping in his bed - this time, with a cold realisation, he knew who it was, and his instinct led him to stalk towards the bed. His voice grew higher and more frantic in his head, _stop it, stop it, you can't do this, please stop_, _you-_ but Fenrir's was louder. It was the voice of bestial desire - _bite that beautiful neck, scratch long lines down that torso, rip the green eyes clean out of the head, do it now, before he wakes!_

_You love him!_ He hesitated for a moment. The figure woke up. It was definitely Harry, who looked terrified of him but did not move as if he were tied by invisible bonds to the bed.

_You love - bite him now, kill him, taste the blood - don't destroy what you love - destroy everything he is, make his pain yours, it feels so good - you - kill him - you love - KILL HIM!_

"Draco? Draco!" A third voice chimed into his thoughts, a voice louder than the ones before. He woke up just before he leaned in to bite Harry's tender neck.

Harry was shaking Draco's shoulders with his hands, looking extremely worried. Just like the Harry in the dream. Draco, still half-asleep, was all ready to reach out and scratch, bite, until his consciousness returned in a full-fledge surge of guilt and disgust at himself.

"Oh thank Merlin," Harry said, still holding Draco's shoulders, "you weren't waking up..."

Draco reached up and cast Harry's hands away. "You've got to leave." He said with a life and death urgency.

"What's wrong?" Harry tried to reach out for him again, but Draco wrenched away.

"Fuck off! Don't touch me!"

"Draco-"

"You have to stay away!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm dangerous. You shouldn't be anywhere near me, Harry. You've got to-"

"Draco!" The harsh edge of Harry's voice made him stop. "You're not dangerous! I don't need to stay away from you. You're not making any sense."

"But you've got to understand!" Draco so desperately wanted Harry to be away from him, but was afraid to even touch him to push him away. He was afraid that the feeling of wanting to bite him would come back.

"Try me," Harry said in his deliberately patient voice, though Draco could tell he felt exasperated. He looked over to the clock on the bedside table - 12.30? Did Harry ever leave?

He briefly described the dream, disliking every word that left his mouth, also editing it where he felt necessary - he didn't have to allude to the fact that Harry had been in his bed after all. "When I woke I still felt the desire. I wanted to kill you."

Harry didn't even look slightly apprehensive - Draco wondered if he had any sense of self-preservation left.

"Draco, it's not unusual to feel disorientated and still half in a dream when you wake up. And I know you don't feel like that usually. There's nothing to worry about."

Draco shook his head. "But you see, there is something to worry about. Once a month now I turn into this beast and-"

"And I'll stay completely out of the way," Harry cut across him, now not stopping to from bridging the physical gap between them and placing a hand on Draco's arm, the cool of it making Draco's arm tingle. "I do understand the risks."

Draco frowned. "But I don't think you do. Besides, apart from my being a werewolf, there's my father and who he supports, there's my mother who you've never had reason to like, all the trouble I get from everyone. If they found out about our friendship then they could turn on you too, you know." He risked a look up. "Why the hell do you bother with me?"

The admission of so many personal things produced both a rush of relief and one of shame. Even mentioning his parents gave him a pang of regret and grief, as if they really had died instead of their presences just having been extinguished from his life. Everything felt so raw, from the glassy eyes of those he had killed in a dream still lingering to Harry's eyes boring into him in the wakeful moment, that he wanted to curl into himself and disappear.

Harry's hand moved up Draco's arm, trailed fingers up the curve of his neck, traced along his jaw, took gentle hold of his chin. "Sometimes I like to take risks. You should know that by now."

_Why don't you take one then?_ A voice not his nor the wolf's rose up in his mind, drowning out the cacophony of doubt, one that sounded like Harry's bringing him out of the nightmares. With Harry right there, within breathing distance, Draco didn't know how to refuse the voice and what its words entailed.

Time slowed and thickened to a blur of cautious surreality as he leaned in and pressed his lips to Harry's warm cheek, just where it began to curve down to his mouth. That was just a trial, a reckless, risky trial - the possibility of rejection still felt so big, even though Draco knew exactly how Harry felt, how they both felt. He just hadn't done something like this before.

He didn't dare to go back far enough to see Harry's face, instead choosing to duck his head and look directly at his slender neck. His mind was wracked with nervous passions of which he, as a proud Malfoy, had never let himself feel before if he could help it.

"Draco..." the word was breathed through astounded lips. Draco inhaled slowly, waiting.

He had not even brought himself to expect the kiss returned to his cheek just as shyly, so was surprised when the pleasant sensation of it made his cheek heat up considerably.

_Following my lead, Potter?_ He heard the arrogance of his youth say, but decided that it certainly wasn't the time to say things like that. He put his learnt patience into practice, thinking of long hours at Grimmauld place and eating breakfast with Weasleys. The pain of a transformation.

He leaned back then, fixing Harry with his gaze, two pinpoint strengths of certainty exchanged. They knew where they stood now as their feelings toward one another went, even if everything else was a huge mass of confusion.

"Harry," he said for no reason. There didn't have to be a reason.

The uttered word seemed to act as an impetus on Harry to break their tentative and beautiful understanding of one another by wrenching Draco towards him, completely undermining all grace and elegance by wrapping a hand in his hair, tugging on it, and bringing their lips together in a painful joining of frightening necessity and shared desire. It was all too much then - kissing was far too close to biting and Draco remembered the way that he had felt in the dream, ready to kill the very person who was currently enclosing his body and will in a heady kiss. Despite how his body ached for the contact, the sheer intensity and joy of being kissed by Harry, his panicking mind won over and he forced himself away, even further when Harry leaned back in again.

"Stop," he said, ashamed to hear his voice come out as a croak.

The thing that had taken over Harry and caused him to be so bold and forward dissipated as he came back into his usual caring, naïve, and slightly awkward self. "I can't believe I just did that," he said, face turning red.

Draco had a sneaky suspicion that he had at least turned pink himself. "I can't believe you just did that," he replied with the first words that beckoned his mouth to speak them. He was using the well-worn instinct of passing blame onto others.

Harry blinked. "You were there too!" His voice went a bit higher, which would have been comical in any other situation.

"You started it." Draco couldn't help himself. It was like the state of his body (horny) and the state of his mind (horny and stunned) were turning the still coherent parts of him into an eleven-year-old boy.

"Well you didn't stop it!" Anybody guessing would have said that the exact same thing was happening to Harry. Draco could see only one way to end this without their whole relationship being completely scathed beyond repair. Denial.

"Let's just forget this happened," he said. Harry nodded fervently in agreement, which hurt - part of Draco wanted him to protest - but was realistic. Two boys, a Malfoy and a Potter, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, a Savior of the Light and a Dark Wolf, did not just kiss like that. Draco knew that, Harry knew that, everyone knew that.

"Good idea," Harry said. They both paused then, only for a second of mutual regret and yearning, before descending from the intimate moment into the safe and meaningless motion of routine, a dance of steps they both knew by heart. Draco dropped back onto the bed, knowing full well that his exhaustion would win out over any bad dreams that may have been still lurking in his subconscious, and Harry picked up his invisibility cloak, bidding him a hurried goodnight before disappearing in a swish of fabric.

That didn't stop Draco groaning loudly and with frustration once he had left, nor dealing with his throbbing erection thinking about that stolen strange moment, from his better dreams, in which they had kissed. He had now stopped feeling ashamed of bringing himself off to thoughts of Harry Potter, even if kissing the real thing had proved to be too much.

Draco slept little and lightly that night, haunted only in waking moments for the days after by supple lips and the intimacy that he so missed from them.

Holy update, batman! I wrote that last little bit a while ago (I write lots of random bits - any I don't include may have to go into an 'extras' chapter) and it just seemed to fit here, even if a part of me wanted it to happen later on.

I wanted a Lupin bit too. I love Lupin! Although I hate Fenrir... grr...

Many uncountable thanks to...

**The Evil Corkyapine** (Is now soon? I hope so thank you for reviewing! And I don't always update that quickly... sorry...) **Msedward** (For once there is action! Namely kissing :D yay!) **ninjadragons** (I think the broom would get jealous :P)** ImperialMint** (There were so many different voices in Draco's head this chapter I think we should start to worry that he's contracted Multiple Personality Disorder...) **Star-Struck Inu** (I was so obsessed with Inuyasha a couple of years ago! And you must be a fanfic reading pro by now! I've only been on this site... a year? D:) **GiselleMarx** (I love writing adorable fluffy bits, it's a big weakness of mine :D) **Mad-As-Alices-Hatter** (Man-love is certainly awesome. And they are getting together slowly! XD) **egoXlockheart** (I know, fluff-love is a disease. LOL Have you ever seen Ouran High School Host Club? I was sort of shouting the same thing at the end of that series; though replace 'him' with 'her'. Frustrating times.) **October in a Box** (I suppose I should include bits with the Slytherins and former friends of Draco... *sigh* I really should plan my writing more. Thanks for the review!)** koryssa-kory** (There will be another transformation soon. Ish.)** Hopeless45** (Thank you for reading!) **miss quirky bookworm **(ah, Hermione is well on her way methinks. Damn her pesky and stereotypical insight into everything in my fanfiction - Lol!) **Clover-night** (I have always thought that Draco and Harry complement each other too! Physically and mentally. Thank you very much for such a long and lovely review!) **Byzantea** (Bromantic! Reminds me of Turk and J.D. off Scrubs... er... if you watch that show. Otherwise that probably doesn't make much sense.) **Carol** (Definitely more fluff in this chapter thanks for the review!) **Inscribed-on-my-heart, twilightserius **(I like to see it as Draco's redemption, though it is still sucky for him. Thanks for reviewing!) **Phebe** (Thankyou! :D I love werewolf stories!) **Jinko** (Tension is definitely my favourite part of any Drarry story personally, I'm glad you like it too! I'm a sort of frequent updater :P) **Toraus, harryhermionerw **(Agh, I always make little mistakes like that... but I thought I did separate scenes? With '***'. Maybe sometimes fanfiction takes them out and I fail to notice. Thanks for the review!) **OvenBased** (Phew, I hate being clichéd! And I agree, I think that all the painful experiences have also acted as a learning curve for Draco and now he's less ignorant to the suffering of others now that he has for once suffered himself. Aw, he's growing up :3) **Red, Sawriter, Arcus Pluvius **(It wasn't lame! I think about that kind of stuff all the time. Oh looky - they did kiss! :D) and **Bobbo** (I am! :P)


	25. Protecting

_Protecting_

His first transformation alone and he was terrified. He wished he could just close the curtains and hide from the silver reams of moonlight soon to make their way down onto the Earth. He wished Lupin were there with him, the only one he would allow to see him this way. He wished he didn't have to go through this at all and could be back in the Slytherin common room, gossiping with Pansy and playing chess with Blaise, thinking dimly about going to bed and curling into a warm sleep.

Instead of waiting for any of these miracles he crouched down, just like Remus had told him to, and anticipated. With the first second of night the first bone cracked. His body shifted and contorted, old memories of pain renewing themselves and recalling their own intensity as he transformed.

His last thoughts were to the empty goblet of Wolfsbane that his godfather had given to him merely an hour ago. Then he gave up thinking in a howl of pain that went from human to wolf as his vocal cords twisted and roughened.

_Yes!_

The wolf was free again and it felt overjoyed. Again, none of the blood thirst Draco had imagined himself battling against came up - he pinned it on the vile tasting, life saving potion. Instead the wolf was sending up feelings of exhilaration and he could not resist getting up this time and bounding around his lounge, which had been specially cleared by the House Elves earlier for the special occasion. Remus was not there to see him after all.

Then the second feeling of the Wolfsbane, a powerful sleepiness, soon took over and he thudded over to the rug before giving up walking altogether and landing down with a quiet _whumph_. He curled up, nose to tail, and drifted off into a deep sleep.

Ironically, the night he spent in a body not his own was the one he didn't spend haunted by nightmares.

-.-.-.-.-.-

The rest of September had sneaked past him and now the term was well into October. Draco sat at the breakfast table having his usual - a cup of coffee, a piece of liberally buttered toast, a lot of people ignoring him, a few nasty comments and a nice side of newspaper which, more times than not, had his name mentioned somewhere in scathing speculation. He thought that the Daily Prophet would have moved on a month after the whole incident, but there was often a new article taking his same situation from a marginally different angle.

_The Heir of Malfoy: Werewolf!_

_A Werewolf Loose in Hogwarts!_

_Death Eater's Son Gets His Just Desserts!_

_Draco Malfoy: Not Even He Could Escape the Curse!_

Dumbledore had made a comment that was often recycled which was in itself a little bit encouraging - "I have personally made sure that all possible precautions have been made for Mr. Malfoy's unfortunate lycanthropy. I assure you that he poses no threat and is just like any other student studying at the school." The papers and angry letters posted to them seemed to disagree.

Draco had stopped subscribing to the Prophet himself, yet some cheerful Slytherin always miraculously dropped a copy down where he was sitting, just trying to bait him into reading it. Most days he just pushed it away disinterestedly now, for the articles were all the same. He wondered what his mother thought of him, reading those articles. What his father would think of him once he found out.

He wondered whether the world would ever look kindly upon him, even just once, but knew that society accepting him, the werewolf son of a suspected Death Eater, was a lot to ask.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry's third meeting with Dumbledore and he was anticipating it with a quickening heart and an avid curiosity. To think that Dumbledore had retrieved so many memories of Voldemort for him to see! To think that Voldemort had ever looked like a normal human being! Some childish part of Harry had always imagined him being born looking so evil, though he had always known that was silliness, but to see Tom Riddle, the child, the teenager... it was mind blowing.

He had made his excuses to Draco about that evening - Dumbledore had mentioned telling Ron and Hermione but not Draco, so Harry had decided to keep quiet about it for now - and was now making his way to Dumbledore's office. What next?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco had not expected to go to the first Hogsmeade trip, though he felt sore about missing opportunities to buy new robes, books and other supplies. Safe to say he had been surprised when Snape had knocked on his door and offered to go with him. He saw no problem with saying no - it wasn't very uncommon knowledge that Severus Snape was Draco Malfoy's godfather. He just wouldn't even admit to himself that he was going with Severus for protection against all the other students' hatred.

Whilst they were trekking out of the castle a question dawned on him. "How am I going to pay for all this?" He felt a pang upon being reminded that he was currently penniless, something that he had never been before.

"Your mother transferred a decent amount of money into my account." Severus explained, looking steadfastly ahead with his black eyes on the weather-greying grounds of Hogwarts. Another pang seared through him at the reminder of his mother.

The same did not go for his father, but he would have given all the money in the Malfoy account to see his mother again. His wonderful mother who had tried to soothe away all the stern and unfeeling words of his father. His mother who really had loved him.

"I see," he said, also looking ahead. For now he would concentrate on getting everything he could possibly need - including something he had been thinking about for a while now...

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"What do you miss?"

Draco's lungs froze up. "What?" They had been sitting quietly, companionably, both doing homework by the dimly burning embers of the fire. He wasn't sure what Harry was referring to, but the question sounded unbearably personal and there were a lot of things Draco missed. He wasn't too good with the personal questions.

"I mean..." Harry was staring into the fire, which mellowed his eyes further instead of making them look hard and fierce the way most people's eyes did by flame, "About your old life. What do you miss?"

"That was quite out of the blue." Draco said, staring into the red. Harry nodded.

"I know. I was just curious. You don't have to answer if-"

"I miss my mother." Draco could play Harry's get-to-know-you games for once, even if secretly it was because he enjoyed confiding things in another person - a luxury he had never possessed in his old life.

"Yeah?" Harry shifted, looked over at him. Draco kept looking at the fire - if he looked at Harry he would lose his nerve.

"Yes. People may cast it off as false myth, but I do love my mother." He cleared his throat lightly. "Quite a lot."

Draco's gaze flickered momentarily upon Harry, as it was so often drawn to do, and saw him emitting a small sad smile into the warm glow on both of their faces. "Even I miss my mother sometimes. I don't remember anything about her."

"Both painful and convenient in its own ways," Draco commented, "In a way I wish I had never known my mother so I didn't have the memories. In another I wish I could still know her now."

"What about your father?" Harry was really testing the water now, as he was often prone to do when it came to Draco. It was as if his curiosity could not be sated.

"I don't miss him as much," Draco admitted, "We were never that close." It struck him, as some things between him and Harry did, as odd that he could be talking about his Death Eater father to the arch-nemesis of the Dark Lord. And in such a personal way - in a way he'd rather Harry was trying to interrogate him on his father's activities, not trying to civilly discuss him as if he were a mild, pleasant man who wouldn't _crucio_ a fly.

They lapsed into a silence for a few moments. Draco gave Harry's question more thought. What did he miss?

The fearful respect of his peers. The swagger in his walk. The smirk that would make people uncomfortable. The endless money and anything he wanted. The -

"The protection," he said finally, "definitely that. I miss having a powerful family to hide behind when things go wrong, someone to always shelter me. I miss feeling safe."

"That makes sense," Harry said, "I feel sort of the same about Hogwarts. It's like my home - when I'm not here I feel a bit out of my depth sometimes. That and the Weasley family and Hermione; they're my protection."

For the first time in a while Draco felt jealous of Harry Potter, but not in the usual hateful way of his youth, he couldn't feel that way if he tried, but in the way of yearning. He wanted his family and home back, but knew that was impossible.

"But don't think you don't have protection, Draco," he carried on and suddenly his eyes did look fierce. Something in his face hardened and he looked more than a young, naïve boy. "You have Hogwarts' and Dumbledore's protection, just like I do. You have the protection of the Order. You even have my protection, not that it helps much."

The jealousy was replaced with a rush of warmth that enveloped his insides like arms were wrapping around him. "It does," he whispered, overcome with things he had not felt since the last time he had embraced his mother to comfort her about Father a few days before he was locked away himself - a sense of place, a sense of home, a feeling of belonging somewhere. He had never expected to feel that ever again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ron always knew that Hermione would be a familiar face for whenever the mood took him to enter the library - which it rarely did when the Great Hall, the Quidditch pitch or the common room were beckoning him elsewhere. Yet he had something on his mind, something he couldn't talk to with Harry.

Because it was to do with Harry. Plus guys didn't talk about stuff like that.

"Hey 'Mione," he said, sliding a chair away from the table of a fiercely concentrating Ravenclaw girl to where Hermione was reading some old, dusty book with runes embossed on the cover. He knew better than to ask what it was about - he didn't have hours after all, even if sometimes it was nice to see Hermione get enthused with one of her ongoing projects.

"Hi, Ron," she said distractedly, pointing at the page in front of her to mark the line before writing down a symbol onto the parchment next to her, "what's up? You're not usually that willing to visit me in the library."

"I suppose not," he said vaguely, watching her endearing concentration for a while before remembering what was _supposed_ to be on his mind, "I wanted to talk about something actually."

If anything could lift Hermione's head from a book it would be a serious conversation. She closed it slowly, finger marking the page, and settled it onto her lap. "Okay then."

"Well... have you noticed anything strange about, you know, Harry?"

"Not particularly... how come?" The look she gave him was speculative, which meant either that she was telling the truth or she had noticed something, only a lot earlier, and was gauging for his reaction to his own suspicions. Ones he wished he didn't have.

"Erm," he could feel his ears going red in embarrassment, "well, specifically Harry and Draco."

Hermione nodded. "Go on."

He knew she knew then. "You think there's something going on there too."

The little smile edging its way onto her lips was unmistakeable. "Perhaps."

Ron let out a breathy snort, he didn't know whether it was more amusement or confusion or distaste. "I can't believe this. I thought I'd gone insane."

"You're not going insane, Ron."

"Well Harry is then."

Hermione gave a small grimace. "I suppose he is. I mean, if you just watch them..."

Ron had been for a while. At first it had been out of blind resentment and jealousy and he had been seeing everything Draco did as either a possible death threat towards Harry or a way of rubbing their friendship in Ron's face. Then, as he had grown used to Draco out of necessity, he had begun to realise that Draco didn't want Harry dead; quite the opposite really.

He had always expected Draco to be a poofter - what with all the hair preening and poncy walking - but his blatant crush on Harry had been doubly as terrible as any thoughts Ron had had about that. He could see it in the way that, at Grimmauld Place, Draco had always sat next to Harry, spent time with him. The way he _looked _at him - sometimes it was like he was trying to consume Harry with his eyes.

But that hadn't been the worst bit, not at all - he could see it in Harry too once he had begun to be curious about how Harry felt about Draco's affections - Harry's eyes looked the exact same way when he looked at Draco. He looked ravenous.

It was all so highly disturbing Ron could hardly express it without beginning to twitch uncontrollably. He had thought it would have gotten better at school, but it hadn't - Harry spent every evening in Draco's room, often didn't come back until after midnight. His brain would not even begin to let him think about what they did in there.

"I know," he said after shuddering. "I don't like it."

"Don't tell me you're homophobic, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione sent him a look of disapproval.

"No, no," Ron shook his head, "that doesn't bother me. I mean, I know Charlie's gay and it doesn't get to me. Never has. It's just... it's Malfoy! That's what bothers me."

Hermione shrugged. "Draco's not like he used to be - he's grown up a lot. I mean, I can stand to be around him now - I couldn't have said the same thing this time last year. It is still strange though, I'll give you that, though Harry's never shown that much interest in girls..."

"What about Cho Chang?" Ron pointed out, desperately grasping at straws. He had been hoping that Hermione would have cast off his suspicions as silly, but it was not to be.

Hermione shrugged. "Straight guys can experiment with homosexuality, gay guys can experiment with heterosexuality. Who knows, maybe Harry's bi-sexual. I haven't taken this up with him because I know he'd get panicked that I was going to ask him about Draco."

Ron shuddered again. "This is such a weird conversation."

"You brought it up," Hermione pointed out with a laugh.

"I had to talk to someone about it! It was eating away at me, just the thought of it... though maybe it's worse now I know it's true."

Hermione was still smiling with one of her knowing looks. "Ah, but I heard about what you did for Malfoy yesterday when those Gryffindors wouldn't leave him alone. Maybe you're warming up to him already."

"Un-bloody-possible," Ron denied, crossing his arms and sitting back, "Weasleys and Malfoys can never warm up to each other."

Though maybe he would have to, if Harry really did feel that way about Draco Malfoy...

"Ron?"

Ron snapped out of his reverie. "Yeah?"

"You know the Halloween ball coming up?"

Ron's ears went from red to puce. "Yes..."

"Do you want to go with me?"

He thought his ears had gone purple by then. "Okay." Even Hermione was blushing as she reopened the Ancient Runes book and practically buried her head into it.

_So maybe talking about relationship stuff to Hermione isn't such a bad thing..._ Ron thought to himself, no longer able to conceal his smile.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry wondered why Dumbledore had thought it a good idea to throw the first Halloween ball the school had had in over a decade - perhaps it was to distract the school from all the roiling thoughts and hushed whispers of Voldemort and wartime. Perhaps it was just another whim of the unpredictable headmaster.

He also wondered how Hermione and Ron had cajoled him into going to the damn thing in the first place. At least he hadn't had to ask a girl to go with him - it was one of those balls where the girl had to ask the boy to go. Eventually he had been asked by a bold seventh year Gryffindor he had hardly noticed around before, Alice Harvey, and had only said yes once Ron had physically prodded him in between the shoulder blades and he had garbled out an answer she had taken to be affirmative.

He hadn't wanted to attend the stupid thing, especially when Draco had confirmed that he definitely wasn't going, but even Draco had encouraged him to go.

"Keep up your good Gryffindor image," he had said with an absent flick of the hand Harry knew was for show, "it would be better than slumming it with a Slytherin like me."

So that was why he was stuck in the Great Hall, which was decorated rather extravagantly and complete with bats flying overhead and the floor stones charmed to shriek or cackle once they were stepped on. He was hoping that with his dark robes he could blend in with the macabre black decorations, but Alice, who seemed determined to show him and her new velvety-purple dress robes off, had already dragged him around with her to greet every friend, acquaintance and random person she knew. It didn't help that he hadn't even Hermione and Ron to escape to, given how they had been dancing and staring at each other for the past hour.

"Oh look, there's my friend Harriet..." Alice, a strong girl for somebody so petite, began to drag him somewhere else, but he couldn't bear another conversation with some star struck student who would ask him nothing but difficult questions.

"Erm, sorry Alice, but I'm not feeling too good. Should we call it a night?"

Her admittedly pretty face fell a mile. "Really? I was having so much fun!"

"Me too," Harry lied and tried to look disappointed about leaving. "Right then... I'll see you around?" He began to turn around, but she grabbed him again. He was getting really tired of the grabbing thing.

"Wait! Just one more thing..."

Then she flung him around and kissed him. In front of everyone. The catcalls and gasps rung out through the hall - there was not the sound of a shrieking floor stone to be heard as everybody stopped in their tracks to stare at the couple. Harry managed to fight her off after a few seconds, but the damage had already been done.

"Did you see that?"

"Bloody hell!"

"Are they going out now?"

"Well, there goes my chance..."

The world tilted into a strange slow motion as Harry wrenched away his hands and walked out of the hall as fast as his legs could carry him without making it look like he was running. Now everybody would think he was with Alice and it was not that way at all!

He imagined all the sly looks people would give him, all the _Prophet_ articles about the new "love of his life", all the embarrassing questions, what Ron and Hermione would say, what-

What Draco would say about it.

He broke into a run then, nearly knocking over a pair of Hufflepuffs as he vaulted the stairs. He had to explain what happened in his own terms before Draco overheard the forest-fire speed gossip that was bound to have been heard by every pair of ears in the school by tomorrow. If anybody had to know by Harry's own account, it was Draco.

He knocked hard on Draco's door and almost felt like shouting, "Let me in!" at the top of his lungs before remembering that his visits to Draco were usually more discreet. Just before he was going to knock again the door opened a crack. He saw the flash of a silver eye before the door opened fully and he hurried in. Draco then closed it quickly, as he always did, and turned to Harry.

"Aren't you meant to be at that dance?" He managed to say the word 'dance' as if Harry had been taking part in some evil, satanic ritual. He was looking at the ground. "How was your date?"

"Awful," Harry said truthfully and Draco looked up at him, a smile dancing in his eyes. It was only partly a mocking look. "My date dragged me around to see practically every person in Hogwarts whose name she happened to know. It was actually dreadful."

"Hence your early escape." Draco supplied and Harry nodded fervently. Draco looked so happy then that Harry lost the heart to mention the ill-fated kiss. He let himself be led to the sofa instead and sat down for the first time in a few hours, letting his feet rest on the soft carpet after unceremoniously kicking off his shoes. Draco only tutted at this, but didn't make a comment.

Harry closed his eyes and let his head fall back, felt the heady warmth of the burning fire in front of them. "This is much better." He lazily opened his eyes again to find Draco watching him intently. He was too tired to feel awkward about that, though, so just closed them again. "Next time there's a dance on don't tell me to go. Tell me to stay here."

"I was tempted to this time, to be honest." Draco's voice sounded much closer then and Harry dimly realized that he must have moved nearer. He was too busy listening to the crackling of the fire and Draco's low purr of a voice to really react to it, whereas normally his every nerve would have been on end merely with Draco's presence in a room.

"Then why didn't you? It would have saved me a lot of embarrassment." Harry felt almost like he was falling asleep and he was dreaming that Draco had taken his hand.

"It would have been selfish, even by my standards. I can't keep you to myself all the time - you stay with me enough already." He laced their fingers together and Harry decided that he liked that very much. He tried to open his eyes, but couldn't quite make his eyelids move.

"You need someone there with you," he said unthinkingly, wondered distantly if Draco would take offence by 'needing' anything.

"I do," he said instead, "but it's still selfish."

"I don't do it just for you," Harry said, reproaching Draco's self-deprecating tone, "I wouldn't spend this much time with you if I didn't get something out of it." It felt like their two voices had detached from the rest of reality and were singing out in another universe. He could say anything he wanted because it was just two voices; nobody else's was there to interfere.

"What do you get out of it?" Harry could feel Draco's warm breath on his cheek now; it made the rest of his body shiver and he shifted closer himself. He felt their chests and legs contact and heard Draco's sharp inhalation.

"Companionship. Somewhere to go when the rest of the world gets unbearable. Time with you." Such personal confessions unburdened themselves easily off of his tongue - he wondered if he had drunk too much wine at the dance out of his sheer boredom. "I couldn't imagine not spending time with you now actually. And I've only really known you for three months."

"You used to hate me, Harry." The words were barely a whisper.

"I never hated you - sometimes you were annoying, that's all." He replied honestly and heard Draco emit a quiet laugh. "I think if there was any hatred it was yours."

Surely he must have been dreaming now - he was imagining that Draco had taken his hand and pressed his lips against it. "Sometimes I really couldn't stand you in the past, but now it's completely different. I want you in my life, always."

"Always," Harry repeated before really drifting off to sleep.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**A/N: Hooray! I'm back! Here's a long chapter to make up for my absence (Heh, I should be revising right now but oh well...) Sorry for the sheer amount of fluff in this, but I love writing it. Especially that last scene XD**

**EXCUSE TIME: I'm sorry for spelling mistakes/plot errors/grammar mishaps/mysteriously disappearing dividers (grrr, thanks a lot fanfiction . net) but I have no beta, I pretty much write anything beyond basic plot as I go and I'm terrible for editing... After I finish posting up everything I'll probably edit it all and make it shiny and wonderful :)**

**e-Hugs to...**

egoXlockheart **(My favourite pairing is Haruhi x Tamaki - how dreadfully clichéd - but I also like the twins :) if only they weren't acting their brotherly love! :P And yeah, I thought I'd stop torturing people with the kiss-scene-thing, though it COULD have potentially taken longer...)** Clover-night **(Blegh, I hate Fenrir, he's so creepy! But fun to write!)** GiselleMarx **(yep, Harry and Draco are stupid. Let's prod them with giant sticks!)** Carol **(Definitely more fluff in this scene :D)** miss quirky bookworm **(I'm sort of thinking that Fenrir hasn't actually seen Lupin since he bit Lupin as a kid, because other meetings aren't mentioned anywhere else...? And Lupin could have given a false name or w/e, evidently I was just too lazy to mention it :P)** magnusXalec **(I am still impressed by your review :) thank you for leaving one! And I don't know many people who manage to sound very intelligent at 2:30 am XD)** Azismiss **(Sorry, as far as Harry and Draco's relationship is concerned I think it makes sense that it's moving slowly, given all the problems it will bring. But I get what you mean, it's also frustrating writing it so slowly sometimes :P - thank you for reviewing!)** Josefin Tonks **(Hell yeah!)** October in a box **(I love you for reading this story! :D and I enjoyed writing about Lupin, even if Fenrir had to be there...)** Star-Struck Inu **(That's a lotta fanfiction! And I would literally try to kill Fenrir if I ever met him, not that I'd succeed... :P)** Horseygirl7 **(All in good time ;) for now let's enjoy them being awkward fools! :D)** F4LL3N 1NT0 0BL1V10N **(Hooray for fangirliness! Thanks for such an awesome review :D)** PARAD0X **(Lupin is amazing! He's one of my favourite characters, I'm really glad you like how I write him. And I hate over the top angst, even if I am a still technically a teenager... Sorry about my slow updating D: I'm completely the same with WIPs, which is why I am so grateful that lovely people like you are reading my story!)** koryssa-kory- **(but I don't want to slap his pretty face :( although it's tempting... lol!) **Ichihime** (Thank you again for your points, I hope I answered them in my message... thanks for reviewing!)** LoonieRiddleDragon **(The updates will be quicker once my exams are over!)** Yana5, Harry Potter-Malfoy101 **(Ah, but Draco nearly always started all their fights and said hateful things in the canon, didn't he? Personally I don't think Ron was as bad, even if he wasn't that great either... he gets nicer to Draco later though! :D) **gaaralover1989 **(Thank you! And Gaara is awesome! :D)** Arcus Pluvius **(They do still like each other! They're just heavily in denial :P Hmmm... left shoulder.) **Byzantea** (Ah, Scrubs is so amazing. And Twilight really is nothing short of bullcrap in my opinion :P)** The Evil Corkyapine **(Thanks about the Lupin bit :D I liked writing it.)** Morgan **(HERE IT IS! FINALLY! IT'S SO WEIRD HAVING A REAL-LIFE FRIEND READING THIS! POST YOUR CRAZY MYRTLE FIC ALREADY! I'LL TRADE YOU CHAPTER 26 FOR IT!)** anddddddd Imperial Mint **(My first exam is next Thursday... hope yours are going okay! And I wrote that little denial conversation ages ago because it made me laugh... and Ron is so cool in that bit with Draco, I kinda want to marry him. Well, I still do :) I love Ron!)**

_Because I felt like it..._

**CRACK MOMENT OF CONCERN NO. 11(?): Straight guys can experiment with homosexuality, gay guys can experiment with heterosexuality, but anybody can experiment with potted plants.**

_**Also: Important question of the chapter... Is Harry/Draco your OTP? Or another pairing? Also, why? :D**_


	26. Blackmailing

_Blackmailing_

Harry had been struggling through one of Snape's never ending Defence Against the Dark Arts essays when Hermione had thrust a clipboard under his nose. He had almost dropped all his parchment in surprise, but she had caught them mid-air with a casual flick of the wand and levitated them to a nearby table.

"This is the list for who's staying over Christmas. You're signing it, right?" She asked, knowing the answer - she and Ron had already signed, he in his familiar haphazard scrawl and she in her precise signature. Harry signed it too then, in the chicken scratch he knew was never going to become neater no matter how many times Hermione would express her disapproval, and felt a little plume of excitement at the idea of spending two weeks in a mostly empty Hogwarts castle with not many more people than his now three closest friends.

Perhaps he could even spend time with Draco outside of the room that had so far defined the secrecy of their friendship without being too wary of people gawking at them and firing off excessive rumours faster than you could say 'Peeves'.

A break from Alice, who was going to stay with her parents as she had informed him far too many times in regretful tones, would also be a welcomed relief. The girl had been pestering him for weeks ever since she had planted her lips on him at the Halloween dance, obviously wanting him to ask her out or something but in her own way too coy to do the asking herself - she was rather simpering at times, so maybe she believed that the boy had to do all the work. Not that Harry wanted to do any of the work, anyway - he felt nothing for Alice Harvey, her pretty face and quick sense of humour aside. She just wasn't -

_She just isn't the person I'm looking for_, he warned his own brain stoutly before trying to concentrate on the essay again, having retrieved the neatly piled pieces of parchment. He had to finish it by tomorrow, which would be November 27th.

_Full moon soon._

He had begun to be aware of the passing of time through the phases of the moon, because this told him when he would be able to see Draco and the nights that were best, regrettably, to avoid knocking on his door.

Draco had only transformed a total of three times but already he had completely slipped into the routine of going to bed earlier for the few nights before a transformation, vainly trying to make it less tiring, and then trying to hide his exhaustion for the few days after even though everyone would know and some would snicker at him and ask, "rough night?"

Harry would just work around all of this, even everybody's nasty comments because Draco was still adamant that Harry was not to get involved in any of it. If Harry were the kind to often take offence he would have felt hurt that Draco was reluctant about their friendship, but he was not that type of person and could see the sheer practicality of keeping their meetings a secret. It was still annoying though - sometimes he wished he could just walk up to Draco in a corridor or sit next to him in the library without anybody else batting an eyelid.

In a way he felt happy that Draco wanted to see him at all, even if just for company, because Harry admittedly liked spending time with Draco, a lot more than he should have let himself. It was as if Draco's room was a different universe he could enter and not have to be on his guard for the people who adored him or the people who hated him. Even in the Gryffindor tower he couldn't get as much peace, especially now with Alice sidling up to him at every given opportunity.

They had not discussed Alice, even though Harry was very sure that Draco knew, what with people asking him very invasive questions in Potions when Draco was sitting right next to him about whether they were going out, how far they had gotten, when they were announcing the engagement. This rumour had completely blown the revelation that Ginny and Dean were going out flying out of the water, not that Ginny was complaining - she got enough stick from Ron about it as it was.

He honestly didn't know what to do about Alice. He didn't want to be rude to her, she didn't deserve that, but he didn't want to make any of the commitments she evidently wanted from him. He would just have to hope that she'd find somebody else, though the chances of that at the moment were looking slim. As Hermione said to him, "She's quite enamoured with you, isn't she?"

If he was going to be honest, Alice just wasn't Draco, and Draco was the only person apart from Hermione, Ron and Dumbledore during their meetings that he actively strove to see at the moment. Draco gave him so many things that he knew Alice never would.

With Draco he felt comfort and safety and warmth, three things he would never have thought possible before they had spent all that time together at Grimmauld Place. He also felt more whole again, the emptiness Sirius had ripped into him not as large and aching as it had been. Yes, he still felt a heart-rending sadness whenever he thought of the godfather who had been snatched away from him, but now it wasn't just the loss of Sirius and nothing else in his mind. The wound, the gaping void, was slowly healing.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco had just signed the form to declare that he was staying for the Christmas holidays. Not that he had traipsed into Slytherin to sign it, he definitely wasn't welcome there except to hex and curse, Severus had come to his room with it. He looked at the few other names on the list - Kayla Abbott, a surprise entry into the house two years ago considering her generally Hufflepuff family, a first year boy called Ernest Trident given the strange name by his zany mother who was a rich acquaintance of his mother's, and Theodore Nott.

_What's Nott doing staying at Hogwarts?_

Severus gave him precious little time to ponder that, instead striking up a rare conversation. Rare because usually Draco was more used to visiting him and watching him silently brew potions, sometimes helping, rather than have the Potions master visit him. Perhaps he felt it polite to make conversation.

"Have you been using my gift to you?" He asked at one point. Draco blinked, momentarily lost, and then remembered the intricately wrought little mirrors.

"Not yet," Draco replied, "and I thank you for them again. They're truly exquisite."

Severus gave a small smirk. "I'm glad you think so. Choose carefully who you share them with." With that he gave a small nod and whisked his robes away out of the room.

Draco knew exactly who he would give the other mirror to, apart from Severus himself and yearning fantasies of his mother aside, and that was Harry. But how would he propose that without it being terribly embarrassing? It was bad enough thinking about all their personal little exchanges of late, including that damn kiss that had nearly derailed him completely, and giving him the mirror would just confirm that Draco really did care for him.

Draco would prefer to keep Harry in the dark about that little fact.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Transfigurations was actually a lesson Draco looked forward to now. In past years he had always viewed the subject apathetically, for a subject taught by a Gryffindor could never have appealed to him that much, but due to a heightened concentration this year to fend off most of the other students in school with work he had begun to see the results - for example, today only he and obviously Granger (who was probably working at the same level as he was now) could successfully transfigure a raven into a music box and back again without any flaws. Draco's could even play a variety of songs and inside a miniature silver raven revolved on a small stand to the music.

Just as he was leaving McGonagall had stopped him and settled a piercing glance on him. He remembered sharply a memory of seeing her in the entryway of Grimmauld Place during a day of his stay there, giving him the same look. He had no idea what it meant, but in truth she had always scared him a bit. He stood and waited for whatever it was she wanted to say.

"If you keep up the amount of work you've been doing, Mr. Malfoy, you'll get a very satisfactory grade," was all she said before dismissing him with a clear, "well done."

He left the classroom feeling a curious buoyancy of accomplishment he hadn't felt in a while.

Of course, there was little change in Potions - he and Harry were partners for the year, which, apart from the Potion making itself, was the only good this about the whole farcical procedure of lessons under Slughorn's instruction. They were by far the best Potions makers in the class, much to Hermione's chagrin as she had been stuck with a Ravenclaw who didn't even deserve to be in her house for as much attention she gave this particular lesson. Yet at the end of every lesson it would be Harry who would receive all the praise and kind smiles, Draco perhaps the occasional "good work." Harry was obviously also a member of what was referred to as the 'Slug Club' and was constantly being invited to insipid little events which he always managed to turn down.

However, this time Slughorn had him - "Oh Harry, don't think I haven't checked your timetable - I set the Christmas party to a day I knew you'd be free! So I trust that you can go?"

Draco could see Harry valiantly trying not to let his face fall. "Of course, Professor."

"Wonderful!" He laughed that irritating, booming laugh. "It's the Saturday before we break up for the holidays. Bring a guest if you wish!" Then he waddled out of the classroom, leaving just Draco and Harry.

"I envy you," Draco said using his most innocent sounding voice and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Who wouldn't? It's the social event of the year, Draco," he replied, and then poked him playfully in the ribs. "Help me clean up the bench, would you?"

"You mean your side of the bench," Draco pointed out, sweeping a glance across his immaculately spotless side of the workbench and then the mess that was Harry's.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said, "it's only because I do most of the practical work."

"I'm just too good at bossing you around," Draco said in a mock-haughty tone but still helped to put things away anyway, definitely not because that meant he could step closer to Harry and brush his hand as they passed things amicably to one another.

"This promises to be as good as the Halloween dance," Harry grumbled conversationally and Draco couldn't help the feeling of raging jealousy that just hearing about the dance caused. Harry had kissed _that girl_ at the dance, that Alice Harvey girl who wasn't even worth a second of his time, and worst of all Harry hadn't even mentioned it to him. Did he really like this Alice that much that he'd keep it secret from Draco? Didn't he like Draco any more? Would he ditch Draco completely for Alice?

"Maybe," he said, scrubbing the cauldron with more vigour than he had been before. He could feel his cheeks heating up with anger and who knows what else.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked immediately. It really annoyed Draco how Harry could tell what he was feeling, though generally Draco was very good at hiding his emotions. Even if it felt like jealousy was eating up his insides.

_If you let me have a bit more control I could show you how he feels - _

_No. I don't trust you enough for that; you're a wolf after all._

_Suit yourself..._

"Nothing," he said, more sullenly than he would have liked, and inspected the cauldron. Then Harry's hand fell onto his arm and he nearly jumped out of his skin, he was feeling that jittery.

"Something is up, I can tell." Draco wasn't sure whether he was comfortable with the familiarity now between them, the way Harry could get Draco to open up anything with a question and small touch, but in another way he craved it.

"Maybe you can take Alice Harvey to the party." He growled before he could help himself. "Slughorn said to take a guest."

Harry's arm travelled up to his shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sorry, I should have mentioned that. That was a complete mistake - she just turned around and kissed me. That's when I practically ran for it, to be honest."

"I see," he replied tersely, even if his shoulder now felt like it was made of over-sensitive jelly. Harry moved his hand again then, swept back a stray piece of hair that had strewn itself into Draco's face whilst he had been scrubbing the cauldron.

"Are you annoyed?" he asked, sounding genuinely worried, and any anger he may have still had simply melted away.

"No," he said and took Harry's hand as it was travelling back to the other boy's side. "I'm not any more." His heart raced by the way Harry's face filled with pleasant surprise - he had never shown him any affection anywhere in public, even when they were alone, after all. No indication that they liked each other at all until now.

Then he heard footsteps, right at the doorway, and tore his hand away, turning to look. "Someone's here," he whispered and grabbed his bag before pacing away. Harry's heart deflated as he watched him leave and then even more when he dodged Alice at the door.

"Harry," she said, not with her usual level of excited exclamation, but in more of an appraising way. It worried him very much - the calculating look she was giving him sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he replied far too quickly, turning to pick up his own bag. She was across the room within seconds and right in front of him when he turned back around. It was truly unnerving.

"Didn't look like nothing to me," she said in a low voice, "it looked like you were holding hands with Malfoy."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked nervously, trying to look confused and disgusted, but she just laughed a pitiless, very Slytherin laugh.

"Don't play around," she said, "I saw what I saw. That's why you definitely will be taking me to Slughorn's party. In fact, I think you should be my boyfriend."

"What?" Harry asked, though he knew what was going on exactly. She was outright blackmailing him with his and Draco's friendship!

"You heard me. Ask me out."

She stood there, waiting. Time trickled by, as did beads of sweat down Harry's frozen body. There was no way he could refuse her without exposing their secret and ultimately hurting Draco, so he would just have to accept, no matter how sick it made him feel. What would Draco think of him now, a coward who accepted blackmail if he told him the truth and a backstabber for going out with her? Or a bad friend if he didn't go along with her?

He took a deep breath. "Will you go out with me?"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**DUM DUM DUH! Drama ahead people, very lame drama. I don't know why, I just really wanted to do that, even if it is extremely clichéd. It's a little lighter than some of the plotlines I've been using, that's for sure.**

**IMPORTANT THING TO DO NUMBER 1: If you're a fan of the film Breakfast Club check out my Brian/Bender one shot! :D Not that I'm self-advertising here...**

" " **NUMBER 2: If you want more great Drarry stories to read check out my new community! (Still definitely not self advertising, no.) Also, if you'd like to be a staff member (even though I have no idea yet how to appoint staff) then feel free to ask! It's called "purplerawr's Draco/Harry slash list."**

**Loads of eLove for...**

Fizzy-Flo, LoonieRiddleDragon, harryhermionerw (thank you very much for the beta offer, I will see about this when I am going through the editing process post-completion) Ali-chan et Vani-chan (Draco is awesome! He and Ron are like joint first in my 'favourite character' list) Yana5, unhappytidings (don't get me started on crazy technology... :P I will contact you about possible beta activities after I complete everything, so I can then get rid of all the mistakes) magnusXalec (I love Draco/Harry, they just work so well in fanfiction :D and Lupin/Sirius are great too!) littlesprout (I have to say I've never read a Remus/Severus before - any stories you would particularly recommend? I'm all for checking out new pairings.) MDarKspIrIt, Clover-night (My exact reasons for loving Drarry! They're definitely my OTP. And yes, Alice is an evil girl as you can see...) egoXlockheart (I swear there's something a bit wrong about my brain... and fluff is amazing!) GiselleMarx (Yep, you have to be a bit brave to read Harry/Snape, though I have read a couple of those in the past :P and they are so obsessed! Especially 6th book.) TRose23 (Thanks for two reviews! :D and I love that my fanfiction makes you squee - that is one of my main goals in writing fanfic, hehe :D) October in a Box (Yep, gotta love Ron and Hermione and their awkwardness.) KoiinuNe (I only ever read one mpreg story which I actually liked... I'll have to find a link for you, hopefully you haven't read it already :P) Byzantea (Lol, I believe that's actually got a name - pansexual :P or maybe that's attraction to pots and pans, I don't know.) reeri, Figment of an Imagination (I've never seen/read Hetalia, but I've heard good things about it. And I love the variety of genres that Drarry can achieve without going into the realm of complete crack...) Kayakokitty (Sorry! I find that with stories too :P) miss quirky bookworm, PARAD0X (hmm... I HAVE to say that I've read cousincest before, which wasn't too bad. Bless Cheryl Dyson for making nearly any pairing possible and being fabulous... and I took inspiration from Draco's reliance on Moaning Myrtle in HBP as to how he'd act when bad things happen etc.)

**Sorry I have no time to bold names or edit... I have an exam tomorrow and sleep is to be had!**


	27. Cursing

_Cursing_

Upon hearing the rumour that Harry was going out with Alice Harvey that breakfast in the Great Hall, Draco felt an intense pain that led him to think for a moment his heart had just turned inside out and righted itself again. What had Harry said only yesterday? Oh yes, that he didn't feel anything for Alice - yet now he was her boyfriend.

It an attempt to look like none of the throbbing anxiety he felt actually existed, he lifted a piece of toast to his mouth and took a bite. It tasted like cardboard. Not even flavoursome cardboard at that.

He had felt so sure that yesterday, in the classroom, he had torn his hand away from Harry before she had walked up to the door to pester them, so very sure with every instinct he owned, so she just _couldn't_ have seen them. So it wasn't like she knew anything about their secret friendship. Still, for Harry to just turn around and go out with her, after what he had said, it was depressing and enraging all at the same time. He had never felt more betrayed.

Which was silly really, because Harry had no obligation to him, but he thought Harry had admitted an attraction to him? What about that kiss that they had tried to ignore? Did their ignoring it really make it mean nothing? Why did Draco want anything more of what they had now? What did Draco really want, anyway?

On the one hand there were all the reasons why anything beyond friendship with Harry was unthinkable. His position in the war compared to Harry's, his family, their shared gender, their different houses, their reputations, numerous things. Yet he could just as calmly argue against most of those; he was not on Voldemort's side any more since he had been cast out, he was under the protection of the Order, he wasn't even a proper Malfoy any more, their both being male wasn't the most important thing, Slytherins and Gryffindors had fallen in love before, Draco didn't really have any reputation to sacrifice any more either.

A year before a relationship with Harry would have been unthinkable. Now, as lost in his world as he was, it didn't seem so terrible for him. But for Harry there were few benefits - _he would be stuck with a pitiable, friendless, bitter werewolf_ Draco thought with a grimace. He couldn't see what Harry would get out of being with him, so maybe Alice would be better for him in the long run.

Though even with that sensible, pragmatic conclusion, he could not stop the lurches of pain that racked through him whenever he thought about Harry being with anybody else.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Harry resurfaced from Dumbledore's pensieve his mind was still stubbornly stuck in the memories of his nemesis, seeing him as a child, a teenager, a young man, making him human where all his actions now made him seem anything but. He supposed he really should have gotten used to the memories by now, having even seen Tom Riddle during his second year through the diary, but each time it was a separate shock. He sat back in the chair after having almost stumbled into it, in a daze of somebody else's past, and blinked hard.

This one had been particularly interesting - it had been Slughorn's memory, strangely tampered with as Dumbledore went on to explain in his sincere headmaster's voice, and it was Harry's task apparently to ask Slughorn for the real memory.

"I'm afraid," Dumbledore said with a rueful smile, "that we will be using your celebrity to our own ends again Harry."

Harry just nodded - he could see how important this memory would be intact, no matter what it contained, for it would be another piece to the puzzle that was Tom Marvolo Riddle. It still rankled, thinking of the time he would have to spend flattering Slughorn enough into obtaining the memory, but at least he could do something worthwhile now during this stupid Christmas party he was taking Alice to.

Alice... he tried not to cringe lest Dumbledore asked him why. Thoughts of her, having to go out with her, how the gossip and staring in the corridors had increased even further, inevitably filled him with guilt and an anger he had no way of expressing and then eventually made him think of Draco. Most of his thoughts led to Draco again in the end.

Talking of Draco, there was something he needed to ask Dumbledore, so he did just before leaving.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore loosely folded his long fingers and looked up at him with knowing eyes. It was like he always knew what Harry was going to say before he even said it. Harry was glad he was used to that otherwise he would have lost his nerve.

"I was wondering... perhaps I could also tell Draco about what we're doing?" He felt embarrassed now, could feel his cheeks heating. He rarely spoke about Draco to anyone, apart from when Hermione would occasionally bring it up about their little plan to look out for him.

"It's entirely up to you," Dumbledore replied levelly, "you know who you can and can't trust, Harry. I trust your decision on the matter."

"Okay then," and a weight, which he hadn't realized was there, lifted. He had wanted to tell Draco about these meetings and Dumbledore's ideas about Horcruxes (which the memory of Slughorn could either confirm or renounce) because he was used to telling Draco most things. It was just this and then the real reason he was going out with Alice he had kept hidden and now he could be free of at least one of those burdens.

He didn't know what he was going to tell Draco about Alice - Draco would clearly see him as either a coward or a bastard, neither of which he wanted to be. He would just have to wait until he saw Draco the next evening, even if he was sort of dreading it...

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Remus was getting really tired of the dingy forest and the even dingier tents he had spent the past few weeks trying and failing to get inured to. He was also tired of constantly checking his behaviour, remembering all the ins and outs of a fake identity and feeding only off the raw meat of the pack's hunting triumphs. Yet right now, in these very crucial moments, he was finally hearing something _worth_ hearing from Fenrir Greyback, who obviously thought that Remus wasn't there to eavesdrop.

"... Lord has told me more about the nature of the potion I took."

"The potion you used before biting the Malfoy boy, master?"

Remus suppressed a shiver of disgust. The more ingratiating of the under-wolves had taken to calling Fenrir 'master'.

"The very one," Fenrir said in a self-important growl, "which you could do with keeping quiet about, Aaron. I tell only you these things as my second in command - if I hear anybody else even whisper of these things you will be disposed of."

_So much for valuing your employees_, Remus thought in wry amusement to try and cover the roiling feeling in his stomach. He had witnessed Fenrir disposing of a traitor before - it wasn't savoury. By the sharp intake of breath he heard from his general direction, Aaron didn't seem to find the idea too appealing either.

"Of course master," he replied after a pause that a sharper man than Greyback would have picked up, "I would never betray you. I will keep your secrets to the grave."

"Good," came the bark of forceful pleasure, "for these are important secrets the Dark Lord has entrusted me with. I knew that the potion would enable me to infect the Malfoy runt whilst in human form, but you see, there is more to it than that!"

_So that's really how he had infected Draco? I wondered how a bite from a human-form werewolf could have been that powerful..._ Remus thanked all the possible deities of the universe that Fenrir was the kind of man (or part-man) who could never keep important information to himself through the need to brag. He strained his eardrums to breaking point as he tried to thoroughly catch all of the words.

"Yes, master?" Aaron prompted and Fenrir let out a low, spine-shuddering laugh.

"The potion also affects the minds of the biter and the victim, he told me, so soon, very soon, I will be able to bend the boy's mind to my will."

Remus felt a pressuring strain on his eyes as they widened fully. The roiling in his stomach began to get worse, no matter how he tried to mentally calm it. Draco would be under Greyback's control?

"Really, master?" Aaron sounded even more fawning then. "How does it work? Is it like Legilimency?"

"In a way," Fenrir replied in a vague self-important manner, which usually meant he knew nothing about what he was talking of, "the Dark Lord told me that I would feel a link between his mind and mine growing, which I am beginning to. The Lord said that when I can finally get closer to the boy the link will become stronger - then I will overpower him and make him my slave! For he is the victim and therefore weaker than I am."

Aaron cried out in joy. Remus felt like being sick. Yet he stilled himself again when Aaron asked another question - "When will we get closer to him? Closer to the school?" The thirsty yearning in his voice grew to an apex of desperation. Remus leant forward slightly and unconsciously from his crouching position behind the tent.

"I don't know yet," Fenrir admitted, "but soon, he said, soon! We don't have to settle for mere animal hunting for much longer!"

"Thank you, master!"

"One more thing..." Fenrir's tone grew even darker, like vengeful black clouds covering a grey sky.

"Yes, master?" Aaron asked nervously.

"It's Solomon," Remus flinched upon hearing his fake name, "I am beginning to suspect him to be a traitor."

Remus cursed under his breath.

"I am in utter agreement, master," Aaron said quickly and gleefully. The bastard had never liked Remus from the start. "It seems like he's hiding something."

"Yes," Fenrir mused, "I feel that we should make another example of what we do to traitors tonight..."

Remus thanked the skies again that the wolves competent enough to still keep a wand on them hadn't thought to cast a ward disenabling Apparation out of the forest. He disappeared with a crack filled with a mixture of relief to leave and disappointment not to have procured more information.

The first thing on his mind at that point though was to declare an emergency meeting with the Order.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The worst part of that particular mid-week day had been, in the time between eating an early dinner in the Great Hall and striding back to his room, being cornered in a corridor by Theodore Nott and Crabbe and Goyle, who considered themselves no longer in Draco's service in any way. Yet Draco knew well enough that they didn't actually use violence very often, slow and unhealthy as they were, and relied mostly on looking brutish and intimidating gestures. They didn't scare him as long as he had his wand with him and space to run.

It was Nott, with his shrewd, brooding intelligence and new overconfidence, who was the one to look out for. Draco was staring at him now, locked into a stance that would easily enable him to reach for his wand, as the other boy appraised him with a sickening smile and a flame in his black eyes.

"Malfoy," he addressed him with a disdain that could not have compared to Draco's when he had felt the need to use it, "so you haven't been put down yet?"

Draco waited. He had heard worse than that - Nott words weren't worrying; it was the beginnings of what appeared to be madness in his eyes that was almost frightening. He reminded Draco sharply of his father, the Nott patriarch currently shaking the bars of an Azkaban cell, more than anything.

"Not yet," he said slowly, betraying nothing, when it appeared that Nott wanted him to speak.

"That's a shame," Nott replied lightly, face heavy with malice, "We really do need to clear the scum out of our school, especially the one piece of it tainting the noble Slytherin house."

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed in their slow way and Nott's smirk grew wider as he reached for his wand with a lack of subtlety inherent to his character. Draco's was ready in under a second, pointing in the boy's face, and it was gratifying to see Nott blink in surprise before regaining himself and producing his own wand.

"Well," Nott carried on his little speech, "if the school won't clear out the scum, then it's up us, isn't it boys?" Crabbe and Goyle nodded in agreement, cracking their knuckles.

Draco said nothing; simply cast the first spell without even so much as calling the start of a duel. He knew Nott wouldn't play by the rules either. He sent out a stinging hex, a strong one, to warm himself up. Nott deflected it, barely, before sending out a much more nasty curse a second later. Draco darted out of its way, thanking the wolf silently for sharing its natural grace, and as he carried on duelling with a quiet concentration the wolf began to direct him in a low growl.

_Dodge that to the left, go forwards, now back again, and remember to defend yourself!_

It was too easy really and Nott was beginning to suspect that he was not making any progress where winning was concerned. He began to talk too, still whilst casting curses.

"Disgusting wolves like you shouldn't put up a fight against noble purebloods," he hissed, out of breath, "give in and get what you deserve!"

"Never." Draco sent out a snake using _serpensortia_, just because he felt like it. Nott banished it just before it raised its head, eyes hypnotic, and started to lunge. It felt a bit like a game now.

"I think..." Nott let out a low, hysterical laugh, "Greyback should have finished the job. I'm sure next time he will."

Draco only faltered for a second and that was all the time it took. A burning curse hit him on the arm and the pain almost blinded him in white light for a second. He could feverishly imagine Greyback right there in the mostly empty corridor, teeth sinking into his shoulder again, but then he blinked it all away forcefully. He wasn't going to let Nott overpower him due to his own stupid fears.

_Focus!_ The wolf encouraged him in a commanding bark.

"_STUPEFY_!" He bellowed the first spell that came to mind, the sheer power of his voice shooting out a huge torrent of red that hit Nott square in the chest. The look of triumph on his face melted as he slumped to the ground. Crabbe and Goyle crowded over his prone body, not sure what to do, and Draco took that as the cue to leave, eyes still burning with tears of pain.

He reached his room and sank down onto the sofa, his arm still feeling like fire. He wrenched up his sleeve, which caused another volley of pain to wrack through him in a scream, and forced his voice to utter the counter curse he thankfully knew - and then the most powerful healing spell he knew, which still wasn't that good. There was no way he was going to the hospital wing now, he thought to himself in panic, but soon passed out from the residual pain still relentlessly pounding.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry was practising what he was going to say to Draco as he walked, cloaked and quiet, down the corridor leading to his rooms.

"She must have seen us, well, holding hands... no... seen us in the Potions classroom... so I didn't have much of a choice... I mean, I didn't ever want to go out with her... I still don't..."

He knocked nervously and waited. Waited some more. Knocked again. Then began to panic. He looked up to the centaur, who was watching him with the same misty gaze of its real life counterparts, and cleared his throat.

"Is Draco not in?" He asked and the centaur kicked a hoof.

"He is in his rooms currently," it replied.

"Then... why won't he come to the door?"

"He is unconscious."

"What?" Harry could have exploded with worry. "Can you please let me in? I don't know the password, but..."

"I can foresee the consequences of letting you in to be acceptable." With that the door clicked open and Harry rushed in. He could see a blond head of hair just above the sofa and ran over to it.

"Draco? Draco?" He was definitely unconscious, but appeared to be in some pain. _Why? _Harry thought to himself as he looked him over - he could see one arm curled into his body and deduced that to be the source of it. He gently touched it and Draco awoke immediately with a groan of pain. "Draco? What's wrong?"

Draco looked up at him blearily, still wincing with pain. "I got into a little fight with Nott."

Harry's heart began to hammer hard. "Did he curse you?"

"Just the one," Draco replied whilst looking at his arm, "I think I healed it quite well, though, before I passed out."

"Let me look at it," Harry said and Draco slowly drew up his sleeve. The burn on his forearm certainly looked ugly, throbbing a shining red. "Bloody hell, that's not a nice burn. We should go to the hospital wing."

"No," Draco blurted out before looking away, "definitely not. I don't trust anyone there."

Harry sighed. "Madame Pomfrey won't do anything to you. It's her job to heal."

"I don't much care," Draco said adamantly, "It's not safe there. No other place is when I'm in this condition. If I'm in so much pain I can't concentrate on anything else then somebody could curse me again."

"I'll take you there-"

"Now you're being an imbecile. What about the secrecy of... of our friendship?"

Harry sighed again and felt the need to rub his temples. "Fine, have it your way. I can't see this burn killing you at any rate. Hang on..."

He produced his wand and held it lightly to the burn. Whispering a healing spell Hermione had recently taught him over and over, he saw as the redness and swelling began to calm down. It took five minutes of Harry's inexpert remedying until it looked marginally better.

"Thanks," Draco said gruffly before lowering his sleeve again. Harry sat down next to him, remembering what he had come to talk about in the first place.

"Look, about Alice - "

"It's your choice whether you go out with that Harvey girl or not, I don't care."

"Oh." Harry felt taken aback -why wouldn't Draco let him speak? "But I - "

"I said I don't care." If Draco could turn his head further around to one side, he would have. He crossed his arms, painful one and all, and every inch of his body said 'leave me alone.' Harry wasn't going to take that.

"Hey, listen to me! I was going to say that I don't actually _want_ to go out with Alice. I never have."

Draco looked around again then with such a fierce expression that Harry wanted to flinch. "Why are you then?" His voice was incongruously calm.

"She knows about us." Harry said simply, knowing no other way around it, and waited for realisation to dawn on Draco. It didn't take long, it never did.

"So she's blackmailing you."

"Yes."

"How very Slytherin. And how very disgusting that she's a Gryffindor trying to be a Slytherin. That's not natural." Draco said, not as angry any more, in fact almost happy again.

"Well, even if she was a Slytherin I'd still hate it. I don't want to be with _her_ at all." Then Harry realized the way he had said it and took his turn to look in the opposite direction.

"You don't have to." Draco said quietly, in that self-deprecating tone that sometimes inched its way into his voice. "You could just stop coming to see me..."

"No bloody way," Harry replied tersely and turned around again, embarrassment gone in a fit of compassion, to frown at Draco. "I'm not giving up someone I actually do care about for someone like her."

"Right," Draco said, cheeks tinged pink. Harry was past the phase of marvelling whenever he saw Draco get embarrassed - though it definitely didn't happen often. "So humour her then. All you have to do is be seen sometimes with her, surely."

Harry thought grimly of the look of pure determination on her face as she had told him to ask her out. "I hope so," he replied. Then he remembered the other thing he had come to talk about, the secret thing he hadn't told anybody about since Ron and Hermione, and felt a flutter of excitement in his chest.

"There's one other thing I need to talk to you about..."

Draco stared at him then, curiosity piqued. "Go on."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

My exams are now over! So here is another instalment in the-story-that-updates-painfully-slowly a.k.a. Pureblood Wolf. Shall we see if purplerawr can reach 400 reviews after this chapter? That would be so exciting!

_**THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO MORGAN**_ :D for her post-birthday present. Love you Moggins! I still feel sad that your dog ate the marshmallows.

Btw, important to note, I didn't leave it on a cliffhanger. I just didn't want to explain all the horcruxy stuff and you all know about that already :P

Thanks to...

**Fizzy-Flo** (Yeah, I'm beginning to think the readers don't much like Alice :P I wonder why that is...) **October in a box** (I think Draco would punch her if it didn't carry too many repercussions... XD) **unhappytidings** (Aww, what can I say, I wanted someone to find them out and it happened to be Alice :P and there will be more relationship development soon!) **Yana5** (Wait, what did Harry do? D: I think he was in a bit of a pickle. Why am I defending a character anyway? I don't know... XD) **magnusXalec** (thank you for luck wishing! Yeah, I'm not a big fan of Alice either. But I suppose writing about Greyback is worse... marginally.) **koryssa-kory-** (No! I'm not quite finished with Alice yet! :P) **GiselleMarx** (Gryffindors can be bitches too. I'm fair in my fics! Lol.) **egoXlockheart** (Totally up to you whether you read the one-shot or not :D there's no point reading it just if you feel obliged to. And I see a review! :P) **Clover-night** (Please don't die! I don't want that on my conscience!) **Byzantea** (By "bear hugging cacti" you mean bears hugging cacti or cacti who like to hug bears? :P**) twilightserius** (Okay, I'm assuming you mean... well, actually, there are technically lots of witches in this story. Now I'm just confused XD) **Jinko** (I get the same feeling when I get update e-mails! Yay**!) littlesprout** (Hooray, I actually did what you said to! XD I didn't think Harry could really keep it from Draco.) **DracosMate **(Thank you for all the reviews! And for giving my story a chance :D and I thought the same when I read the 6th book!) **Jojii-chan** (You're going to WWoHP? SO JEALOUS. It doesn't help that I live thousands of miles away from it... **sigh** and I have no money.) **.Lass** (Thank you! You're an awesome reviewer :D) **Kayakokitty** (But Draco's meant to be a good werewolf! :P So maybe he can rip her mind to shreds instead...) **GeneveRashkae** (No worries, it's more of a subplot... but I won't give too much away :D) **TRose23** (Sorry, the chapters are as long as my muse wills :P Sorry! I will keep it in mind to try and include more good bits!) **funnyducky **(With a bloody knife? Who have you killed already? I hope it's Umbridge, seeming as I hate her and don't actually need her for the story... and I, er, sort of complied to your request? XD) **followthedarke** (Wow, thatsa lotta reviews! Thanks! :D) **foxtrot run** (Thanks for reviewing! It's great that you like my portrayal of Draco... sometimes I don't quite get him right.) **miss quirky bookworm** (No worries! Draco hasn't quite gone mad!) **Star-Struck Inu **(Hooray! Though I guess 2 weeks isn't updating soon...) **Bob Da Peach** (I'm totally honoured by this review! Thank you so much :D)** CryingxInside** (Erm... I don't know how doing all that stuff turns out for plot continuity XD but I shall take your requests into account! :P) **KoiinuNe** (Yeah, a little lame, but I do like to use stereotypical plot lines/twists in fanfics :D so why not indulge myself a bit?) **Imperial Mint** (Yay for long reviews! I would answer lots of things but I am tired tired tired... but I will say that I took your comment on Harry seeing teenage!Voldie in second year into account - I like it when people tell me mistakes that I can still rectify :D) **Draco and Hermione is like PBJ** (WTFBBQ?) **merissakc207** (Sorry for the bitch-shaped interruption Alice Harvey style D: and thanks for reviewing!)

Sorry if my replies weren't that long... I am knackered, it's nearly midnight here and it's been a long day

**Side Note of No Consequence Numero 1: Daft Punk are so good! Who's with me? For anybody who doesn't know what I'm on about, they're a French band who specialise in House music. I'm addicted at the mo! VIVE LA FRANCE! HIER SOIR JE SUIS TOMBEE A LA FENETRE! I don't know if that was right or not... my French is a bit rusty from lack of use and tiredness.**


	28. Brewing

_Brewing_

"Today class," announced Slughorn in his booming voice, "we shall be brewing a tricky little potion called Felix Felicis! Can anybody tell me what this potion is for?" He gestured to the small vial of shimmering golden liquid in his hand. Predictably, Granger's hand shot up like an educational erection. Draco suppressed a laugh at that interesting analogy by quietly sighing as he leant his head further into his hand - his classroom manners had seeped through the flagstone floor of the Potions classroom now that Severus wasn't there to get snappish about it.

He zoned out until Harry was gently elbowing him, careful to pick the arm not still healing from the burning curse. "Dra- Malfoy, we start brewing now, so get up." He added in a whisper, "and I hope you have a clue about what we're doing because I was daydreaming the whole time."

Draco rolled his eyes, but couldn't deliver enough disgust into it due to the surge of affection he always felt when Harry would actually share some small shortcoming with him instead of feeling the need to protect himself and put up a defence. It was still such a wonder that they had gotten so close.

Draco dragged himself up to go collect ingredients after elbowing Harry back. He made sure to put on his best haughty face to make the eager Ravenclaws edge back a bit more. Pity that didn't work on Granger, who just bustled past him with a small half-smile he almost found himself returning for a second. _Bloody Granger._

A lesson later and Slughorn was examining the pair's collected efforts. Draco could tell they were going to win before he even announced it, given all the admiring looks the fat fool was giving a feigningly oblivious Harry. Though this time he was glad they had his excellent Potions skills paired with Harry's fame to their advantage - Felix Felicis was a great prize, after all. He could already imagine how much more pleasant his next transformation would be...

Harry gave him a small smile as they pocketed a vial of gold each. "Liquid Luck, eh? Maybe I can avoid Alice for a day."

Draco gave a wry chuckle. "I think even Felix would find that difficult." Or maybe he just remembered all the times he saw that _girl_ draping herself over Harry with far too much irritated clarity that it felt like she was there all the time.

Harry gave a sigh and his eyes became unfocused as he drifted off into introspection. "I still don't quite know what to do about her."

Draco let himself lightly brush Harry's arm, ostensibly whilst reaching across the table for spare ingredients to put back in the cupboard. "It won't last forever. I bet she doesn't even have a proper plan, silly Gryffindor." He paused, wanting to offer something more sympathetic. "It'll work out eventually, Harry."

Harry just looked at him, eyes completely clear again. Draco stared back, stuck as he was, hand still reaching out. A cleared throat caused them both to almost jump out of their skins.

"Hermione!" Harry cried with far too much joviality. "What's up?"

"Granger," Draco acknowledged her, feeling shaken. She just gave them an amused look that made the feeling far worse. Were they that obvious?

"Well," she began, " I was wanting to ask you about your Felicis potion." She was actually looking at Draco when she said this, which made sense because anybody with an inkling of common sense (so not Slughorn) could tell that Draco did most of the mental work into his and Harry's potion brewing. "I think I went a bit wrong about half way through, you know the part where..."

Harry was ready to leave in seconds. "Well, I'll see you in the Great Hall," he said quickly and dashed off with Weasley, who had been waiting at the door. There was nothing he liked less than technical Potions discussions.

As soon as he was gone Granger stopped talking and smiled grimly. "I didn't actually want to talk about the Potion. There's something else that needs to be discussed."

Draco blinked. "Right. What is this thing exactly?" He set about packing his bag, so she wouldn't see his shocked expression.

"Alice Harvey." Granger said and her expression mirrored the feeling that name inspired in him - abject hatred. "I know something isn't right with Harry and Alice being a couple, but he won't tell me a thing!"

Draco didn't know what to say. A more noble part of him felt that he shouldn't divulge what Harry told him to others, but a larger part wanted to join this scathing conversation about that horrible girl. "What exactly do you think is wrong?" He went with trying to sound innocent until she revealed more.

"Well, it's the way he acts around her. She seems completely enamoured with him, but at best Harry acts completely distant and passive around her. There's definitely something wrong, but he won't open up to Ron or me about it. He's been ever so secretive ever since... ever since..." She frowned and looked away.

"Ever since his godfather died." Draco supplied and she nodded. He knew that much, though Harry hardly mentioned Sirius Black to even him.

"I just think that he doesn't want to be her boyfriend, but why did they start going out in the first place then? And why would he continue to be with her?"

_Oh, Merlin_. She was looking expectantly at him now and he had no idea how to respond. _Well... honestly is the best policy and all that..._ he swallowed nervously, feeling like he was doing something right and wrong at the same time.

"She's blackmailing him to be with her."

"Bloody hell!" Draco tried not to contemplate the strangeness that was hearing Hermione Granger swear. "I suppose I can guess why."

Draco shrugged uncomfortably. "It's something to do with me, if that's what you're getting at."

"Hmm..." Draco looked up sharply at the subtly enraged tone of Granger's voice, so unlike her usual annoying wheedle, "well we're just going to have to put a stop to it. I don't know how yet, but I'll find a way."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Revenge, Granger? I didn't know you had it in you."

Hermione smiled and Draco had to admit it was slightly terrifying. "If anybody hurts my best friends then I have no sympathy for them. No sympathy at all."

And with that she stalked off, grumbling to herself. Draco tried not to feel gleeful that somebody else knew how much of a complete _bitch_ Alice Harvey was, but he couldn't help it. He would whole-heartedly help in any way he could to see her torn down from her position of undeserved power.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

As soon as Harry sat down in the Great Hall for lunch a girl-shaped annoyance was at his side, whining to get his attention.

"Oh, Harry..." she began, acting in her well perfected innocent way, "I heard that you're going to Slughorn's Christmas party. You are planning on taking me, aren't you?"

Harry futilely searched for a source of help. There was Ron, who was too busy sniggering into his food, Seamus and Neville who were in a heated discussion about Quidditch and Dean and Ginny who were too busy staring at each other in that sickeningly lovey-dovey way. Hermione and Draco still weren't anywhere to be seen, not that he could appeal to Draco for help anyway. He just shrugged, trying to look casual.

"Depends on if I go."

"But Harry," she said reproachfully, "it'll be the party of the year! If we don't go I shall be very... upset..." she let the threat hang and Harry felt like his heart was being hung alongside it.

"Okay," he said emotionlessly, "of course we'll go."

"Brilliant," Ginny piped up all of a sudden, "Dean and I are going too!"

"Oh, it'll be just like a double date then!" Alice cried and Harry felt like bashing his head on the table, hard. Instead he tried to eat as Ginny and Alice chattered excitedly.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"So, any luck on procuring that important memory?" Dumbledore asked. Harry felt a tangible shame at himself as he bit his lip.

"Believe me sir, I've tried, but..." he shook his head, speechless. Dumbledore didn't get angry, he didn't tell him off - he just looked deeply disappointed. That was the worst reaction of all.

"Keep trying," he said with extra emphasis, "we need this memory more than almost anything. Without it we can't go any further in our research."

"Sorry, sir."

Dumbledore merely nodded. "What's past is past. I suggest in particular this Christmas party that Horace is holding this weekend... perhaps you can corner him more easily there..."

Harry felt as if every unfair fate and force in existence was forcing him to attend that wretched Christmas party.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was that Saturday morning when Draco saw Remus for the first time since the end of the summer. He had felt a sudden, uplifting joy when he had spotted him walking through the entranceway from the main doors, McGonagall and Dumbledore flanking his side. Though he had just about refrained from calling out, given the other students milling around and already giving both werewolves suspicious looks.

"Draco, good to see you," Remus said quietly, hurriedly, "Albus is letting us use his office."

"For what?" Draco asked, though he could make an educated guess, from the harrowed looks of all three adults, that something serious was going on. He knew that even more trouble was brewing and that was bad enough.

"This is no place to explain," Remus said, eyes already on the corridor that would lead most quickly to the office, "let's go."

And go they did, pacing quickly until they had to pause to say "Strawberry bonbons" to make the two gargoyles leap aside.

"Strawberry bonbons?" Draco asked. What kind of password was_ that?_

"Albus has strayed more into Muggle sweets recently," was the only explanation offered, "Take a seat." They had already mounted the stairs to Dumbledore's main office and Draco chose a comfy looking chintz chair in a deep blue colour. He felt anything but comfortable as he took in Remus' appearance, even shabbier than usual, his eyes darker and fathomless.

"So, what do we need to discuss?" Draco said after a minute or so and Remus seemed to snap out of some sad reverie.

"Yes," he said distractedly, then grew alarmingly alert, "you may have guessed already that it has something to do with your lycanthropy."

Draco's stomach sank as he gave a solitary nod. He still wished he could just forget that he was a werewolf and the problem could go away.

"You recall that when Greyback bit you he was not in wolf form?"

"Of course." He remembered every gruesome detail.

"Well, I had originally thought that you had been affected to the full level by his bite in human form because his mind has twisted so fully into the realm of beast. I thought he was powerful and sadistic enough to manage it. Well... that's not quite true." Remus took in a shuddering breath, his thin frame shaking with burden. Draco waited for the blow. "Fenrir took a potion before he bit you. It's a potion that will connect your mind to his over time, the link becoming stronger with each passing full moon."

And there the blow was. Draco felt winded, his breathing uncontrollable, his periphery spinning away from him. He remembered with a sharp clarity the darker voice of his dreams, which really was Fenrir's all along. Always encouraging him to hurt, bite, maim, all the time. A different voice to his wolf, a nasty voice, a voice with ulterior motives.

_I'm glad you don't think I'm so nasty any more..._

_Shut up, this isn't the time for jokes. I'm still highly aware of your darker scruples, wolf._

"I overheard Fenrir talking about it whilst I was spying on the werewolf camp. I had to leave very soon after, though, for they were beginning to suspect that I was a traitor... I'm so sorry, though that's hardly any consolation."

Draco swallowed, licked his lips, anything to counteract the dryness in his mouth. "Is there any way to stop it?"

"Not any we know of," Remus admitted, "knowing Voldemort - sorry," he added when Draco flinched, "it would be a serious potion, only cancelling itself out with one of the affected people's deaths. Though we are researching everything we can..."

"Thank you," Draco managed to choke out. He knew that his body had been brutalized, forever tainted by the bite, but now his mind was contaminated too. He was lower than anything his former self had despised, lower than half bloods and blood traitors, Muggles and magical creatures; he was the lowest of the low. He was the one person who disgusted him most.

"Draco," Remus leant across and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "remember that every memory charm, every legilimency spell, every imperius curse, they can all be overpowered. I'm sure this can too. You're just going to have to be strong, even stronger than you have been already."

"What if I'm not strong enough?" He was hardly strong as it was, relying on Harry as much as he did. What if he gave into Fenrir and ended up hurting everybody he loved, just like in his nightmares?

"You are strong," Remus replied, "You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. You have lost your family, your old friends, your standing, everything you used to be, yet you have risen above it all. You are still alive, you are still fighting, you are still loved. You have strength, Draco, just make sure to use it." Then he pulled him close, just like his father never did, and Draco didn't find it strange. He just let himself be held and thought that Remus felt as much like family to him as his own mother did.

After an indeterminable amount of time Remus let go, but still held him by the shoulders. "Also, don't try and fight this on your own - there are people who will want to help you and comfort you, make sure you remember them."

With that their conversation was over and Remus had to leave. Draco felt a new ache as he watched him walk through the main doors into the piercing morning, vanishing in a glare of white December light.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Nott was there again, stalking him down a corridor. Draco could only feel minimally grateful that Crabbe and Goyle weren't there for once, but Nott was the main threat. He opened all his senses as far as they could go, now hearing water moving through the piping and mice scuttling through the gaps in the castle, and heard each of Nott's ill-intent filled footsteps. He came to a sudden stop and heard the pleasing disorderly scuffle.

"Yes, Nott?" He asked, perfectly nicely, which seemed to annoy the boy more than anything. He was tempted to add that if he frowned any more than he did already he would have permanent scowl lines, but felt it best left out.

Nott turned his anger into a sneer. "How's your arm?"

"My arm?" Draco feigned confusion. "It's fine, thank you."

Nott made a disgusted noise, which Draco supposed was to hide his disappointment, but he had to admit that Nott's bashing of his still-burnt arm whilst walking away was a nice added touch. He was still wincing silently in pain when he finally got back to his room.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"You let a traitor stay in the camp?" He heard the bone-chillingly familiar voice scream in cold rage. "_Crucio_!"

Then he saw Fenrir Greyback, writhing and screaming, more like a weak and cowardly man than a terrorizing werewolf. Voldemort didn't stop the spell for what felt like hours but could have been seconds, and then Fenrir visibly curled into himself from his position on the cold, expensively tiled floor of the large room they resided in. Harry would have looked around more thoroughly, if he hadn't been so transfixed on the two occupants of the room.

"You utter fool," Voldemort said, perhaps calmer due to the torture but still hissing, "can you not even remember all the ones you have bitten? Now Dumbledore's little group of scum know exactly what the potion does! Did you not think of the dangers of even revealing the information to anyone?"

"I'm so sorry, my master," Fenrir wailed, "I made a terrible mistake and I deserve punishment for it."

"Yes, punishment you shall get! Crucio!" Then Fenrir was screaming, louder and louder, unbearably loud, soul-shattering screams -

"Harry! _Harry!_ Wake up, damn you!"

Harry felt like he had hit his head hard as he blearily opened his eyes. He wouldn't be surprised if his scar burst open in a shower of blood, but Draco's pale face in front of him looked completely devoid of red liquid. He groaned as his head sent out another pulse of pain and laid it in his hands. His back felt cramped from falling asleep in a chair, but that was the least of his problems.

"You fell asleep," Draco stated the obvious and Harry would have laughed if he had been in the proper mood for it. "Then you started thrashing around and screaming."

Harry sank his head deeper into his hands now with embarrassment. Draco had seen him having one of his visions? How was he going to explain that?

"Sorry," he said, face still hidden, and heard Draco laugh.

"No need to apologize to me," he said, "now I know how annoying it must be for you to wake me up. You didn't come around for minutes; I was practically shaking you awake. Harry?" He felt a hand take his wrist and attempt to take his own hand away. He stubbornly kept it there.

"No," he mumbled, "it's better like this." Draco laughed again and took his hand away with as much force as was required, which wasn't particularly that much.

"Are you blushing?" He asked, making things so much worse as Harry went from red to beetroot. "I've never seen you go red before..." he then poked his cheek in a fit of playfulness that didn't come out often. Harry batted his hand away.

"Shut up," he admonished, though not with much conviction, "it's not my fault I'm not always so pasty like you. Ashen, actually." Draco just kept on laughing, obviously overjoyed by their role reversal. Harry just felt ashamed, he hated anybody seeing him having a nightmare or vision.

Then it dawned on him - he had seen a vision. Hadn't Voldemort stopped that after possessing Harry in the department of mysteries? Why were they coming back now?

"Harry," Draco said again, soberly this time, "do you want to... talk about it?"

Harry grimaced. "Not particularly. Perhaps when it's less fresh in my mind."

Draco shrugged, though he still looked concerned. "Okay then. So... are you going back to Gryffindor tower?"

Harry looked at the small clock beside Draco's bed - it read 2:58 a.m.

"Jesus!" He exploded, "It's that late? I must have been out a while. Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"Well, you only woke me up when you started making all that noise..." Draco gave him a pointed look, "otherwise I would have woken you up earlier."

"Right," Harry went steadily more red again, "stupid question."

"All your questions are."

"Okay... I should be getting back then." Harry gave a giant yawn which conveyed just how achingly tired out he was. "If I can make it back without falling asleep."

"Look, you could - " Draco started, then stopped, then took a sharp intake of breath. Stopped again and looked perplexed.

" - stay here?" Harry filled in the gap, speaking the two words slowly. He thought they both realized what that could mean to them, not to two friends or two acquaintances or two enemies, but to whatever they were on the cusp of becoming, always on the cusp and never quite being. It would be taking a step they couldn't retrace and erase afterwards, just like neither of them had really forgotten the kiss that had passed between them.

Draco cleared his throat. "Yes."

And they both knew it didn't mean that Harry could sleep on the sofa, which was a little bit too short for him to recline on anyway, it meant something entirely different. Even if Draco's bed was king-size, it was a still a bed that they would still share and it would still be wonderfully strange and horribly awkward. It would still make what was the underlying truth of their need for one another even more unavoidable than it already was.

"Okay then," Harry walked cautiously over to the side that Draco never slept on, as though he was saving it for somebody else, and just looked at it.

Draco walked back to the other side and carefully climbed in, as if the bed would break under his hardly significant weight. "There's some spare pyjamas in the second drawer if you'd like them."

"Thanks," Harry said woodenly, marching over to the drawer, selecting a top and trousers at random. He hesitated for a moment, and then decided to get changed in the bathroom. He knew why, but didn't want to admit it. He came back in to the bedroom, paused at the sight of Draco with his eyes closed but ears blatantly straining to hear every move Harry made, and let out a sigh.

"Look, I don't have to stay," he mumbled, "if you're... if you're uncomfortable with that." He closed his eyes, face flaming. "I know you know how I feel about you and if you don't want to share a bed with me I understand."

"It's not that." Draco replied quietly and Harry thought he would pass out from all the blood that had escaped from his body to flood into his face. He got into bed then, his legs propelling him of their own accord. His feet emitted a faint scream as they slid down the mattress, and he felt the warmth of Draco as soon as he lay down, even though they weren't touching at all.

"Good night," he whispered, turning off the remaining light, plunging them into a heady darkness.

"Good night," Draco breathed back.

Harry was surprised that he even managed to get to sleep that night, but soon Draco's slowed breaths let him drift off into his own deep, exhausted rhythm of oblivion.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**A/N: Wow, I've reached 400 reviews! That is certainly a landmark I never expected to cross when I started writing this. I am really thankful for all the feedback I get from you lovely readers, it's the only thing that keeps me going on this!**

**Question of the Chapter: What are your reviewing habits? Do you review everything you read, or just the particularly good stories? Do you leave negative comments on stories you don't like or just not comment? Do you review every chapter of a longer story? (I only do this last one if a story really blows my mind, haha.)**

**May I eGet-down-on-my-knees-and-grovel-thanks-to...**

**ImperialMint **(Oh, Daft Punk, if only I could meet them... I'd probably get a restraining order. And yeah, I should really brush up on my French again, I've hardly spoken a word of it since G.C.S.E ... I really used to enjoy it as well! And as for the Greyback recognizing Remus thing, I'm sort of assuming they hadn't met properly since Greyback bit Remus at five years old and Remus isn't usually the sort to hang around other werewolves... I don't know, I'll have to clear that up more in my story :P Oh J.K. the things I do for you... ha!)** crumbs02 **(That would be rather unfortunate... How about Harry instead? :P) **magnusXalec** (Heh, the name was partially based on someone I know and don't particularly like... and yeah, I'm keeping the horcrux plotline relatively the same) **Clover-night** (Whoo, singing in reviews! I like that.) **Nymphadora Potter, egoXlockheart** (I so had a video gaming session the other day! Because my younger cousin was staying over the night and I was like "What do 14 year old boys do in their spare time? Xbox!" I felt all nostalgic playing Halo 2 and Grand Theft Auto also, I popped my COD cherry! XD) **GiselleMarx **(Perhaps Nott and Alice can form a suicide pact or something? Though that may be a little extreme...) **erikatristens** (Whaaaa? Harry and Draco aren't cousins to my knowledge, are they? I'm so confused!) **littlesprout** (No worries, Remus is unscathed the poor bloke's been through enough after all...) **Fizzy-Flo, Alonra Wraith Dragon, Pommyth** (Agh, my French has gotten so bad :P and their anime film to the album Discovery was so cool!) **October in a Box **(my favourite DP song of the moment is definitely Something About Us - it's soppy but so good! - but it was Digital Love for a very, very long time!) **Kare Silver, funny ducky **(Cripes! I'm not straying from your wishes any time soon :P and Something About Us! :D I've said this twice now...oh, how I love UST!) **koryssa-kory-** (Hmmm... maybe later :P) **F4LL3N-1NT0-0BL1V10N** (So totally managed to type your name without looking lots this time! Win! And there was definitely sexual tension in this chapter! :D) **Moggins** (My pleasure! And I like having real life people pressuring me to write, it keeps me on track!) **RockIll** (Maybe I should feel bad that my story drives me away from school? D: Ah well, I enjoy writing it too much!) **miss quirky bookworm** (Sorry, I can't give things away :P)** ThisLittleIsland** (Guernsey by any chance? :P) **Byzantea** (Ooh... doesn't sound very fun! :P) **Star-Struck Inu**, and **spot'scrazygril.**


	29. Mirroring

_Mirroring_

Waking up with his side against somebody else's was much less shocking than it should have been, Harry reflected as he slowly and sleepily opened his eyes. He reached with a practised no-looking skill to grab the familiar feeling frame of his glasses and put them on, his world focusing again.

He carefully turned onto his side and then spent much longer than was strictly necessary just looking at Draco and drinking the sight of him in. He was still fast asleep, his biological clock set to wake him later on the Saturday morning, and his face was half buried in the pillow. He was sleeping on his front, one arm was slung outwards to the middle of the bed, palm open as if reaching for something, and the other arm pinned to his side.

His hair was even relatively preened, a strand or two flicking out but most of it characteristically smooth. Harry noticed again, as he often did, how very delicate his features looked when they weren't being used for sneering or sarcastic comments. Though he didn't look like a girl or anything, he just looked... like he did, really. Harry was terrible at trying to describe why he was attracted to people physically, but he knew it was something to do with those times when a flash of the vulnerable would tear through the Malfoy mask, no matter how much Draco tried to hide it.

Though it wasn't just his protective side, which was definitely there no matter how much he denied it, that kept him fascinated by the other boy. It was Draco's quick wit, his logical intelligence, and his new grown, sheer endurance against all the walls that had sprung up in his life. It was his laughter and his little grumbling complaints that usually didn't mean much. It was the way there would be a small crease between his eyebrows whenever he read a book because of his intense interest and how a small, satisfied smile adorned his mouth whenever one of their Potions turned out perfectly. It was also those genuine smiles he reserved for Harry that nobody else saw, the things he told Harry that nobody else knew, the insights into his life that _nobody_ but Harry had.

It was a lot of things, really.

Harry had to admit that whatever he felt was more than a passing, inquisitive attraction - it was something bone-deep, solid and immovable as heavy stone, which he felt. It was something that had settled within him like a vast forest-floor of affection, growing and growing with each passing day. It was something that was not leaving and that he did not ever want to leave. It didn't even feel strange or wrong any more, the strength of this feeling, it just felt normal.

Draco awoke with a small mumble then, eyes flicking open. Harry didn't stop looking at him, even when Draco went pink and looked away. "Morning," he grumbled, turning away and pulling the covers around him. Harry smiled and then flipped onto his back.

"Good morning," he replied merrily and Draco scoffed.

"Only you could be so bloody cheerful this early..."

"It's 10 in the morning, you know."

"So? That's very early."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Where were you last night?" Ron asked Harry as soon as he sat at the breakfast table. He didn't sound like the rest of the people who had asked him the same thing, namely the other boys from the dorm, who had paired the question with knowing smiles and winks. He sounded more disapproving than anything.

Harry just shrugged, not thinking it necessary to cover up the story from Ron. "I crashed at Draco's. Don't worry, nobody will suspect that, they all think I was with Alice." It's not like Ron would take it in _that_ way anyway, seeming as he still frequently engaged with Harry in long conversations about girls. He probably didn't even suspect that Harry and Draco were anything more than friends, even if technically they _were_ just friends.

Ron was frowning as he lifted a forkful of scrambled eggs to his mouth. "Okay," he said neutrally, before taking a bite. Harry knew then that something else was up, but he didn't really want to ask. For all he knew Ron was jealous that Harry had a girlfriend and he didn't, or that Harry hadn't mentioned Alice at all before going out with her (which couldn't be helped - he hadn't even given a thought about being in a relationship with her before she sprung blackmail on him.)

"Speaking of the devil," he whispered to himself as Alice came bounding up to him and crashed down by his side, much closer than she really needed to be. She was practically in his lap. At the same moment an outraged cry came from the Slytherin table.

"Watch it Malfoy! You got pumpkin juice all over me..."

Alice gave Harry no time to look over to Draco as she 'lovingly' wrenched his face around to hers. "Morning sweetie!" She planted a kiss on his cheek, and then went to reach for a piece of toast. Harry let himself contemplate throwing a painful hex at her for a few moments before resuming eating too. And ignored the wolf whistles coming from Seamus' general direction.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Pass me the newt eyes, would you?" Draco asked, trying to sound disapproving as Harry passed them with a small smile and a brush of the hand. It was as if Harry's touches were getting even more frequent and less accidental as their lessons together progressed through the year. Draco didn't mind particularly, but he sometimes felt it was too risky what with the beady eyes of Alice waiting for Harry at the end of his every lesson with Draco. That girl really was everywhere.

Draco sometimes worried about the sheer amount Harry put himself through day after day. Even when the whole idea of hunting for Horcruxes and destroying parts of the Dark Lord's soul took a back seat, Harry still had school work to keep up with, a deranged girl black mailing him, the eyes of the wizarding world constantly watching and judging him, not to mention the sacrifices he made to stay with Draco every evening. It would occasionally make him squirm with guilt, but he knew that he would go insane without the company. He just wished that things could be easier for Harry, but felt helpless as to change anything.

Except for Alice. Hopefully he could do something about her. He would have to keep conferring with Granger about their little plan.

There was that on his mind and the little episode with Harry the night previously. What sort of nightmare could have caused that pained look of fear on his face? Why could he not share it with Draco when Draco told him every single one of his dreams? What could possibly be bad enough that he would keep it a secret? He really wanted to bring it up again, but every time he so much as mentioned the word 'dream' now Harry grew quiet.

Though Draco was hardly one to complain - he was definitely keeping his mind link to Fenrir a secret, in the fear that it would cause Harry to run a mile. What if he crumbled to the link and became as twisted as Fenrir? He wouldn't blame Harry for keeping his distance.

He dumped the newt eyes into the cauldron with a soundless sigh.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione jumped slightly as somebody sat across her table at the library. Rarely did people approach her when engrossed in a book, so she looked up inquisitively and found Draco Malfoy staring at her.

"So," he asked, "how is the plan going against She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?" He raised an eyebrow, still haughty to the core, and Hermione couldn't help but make a noise of amusement at Alice Harvey's affectionate little nickname. Then she remembered what the answer would be and the disappointment sunk that particular happiness.

"Not well," she admitted and Draco's shoulders drooped slightly. "She has an entirely clean record; no detentions for any misdeeds. Not a bad word against her. Either she's become devious recently, through some mad infatuation with Harry, or she hides her secrets very well."

"It's most likely the first option," Draco mused, "for Gryffindors aren't subtle enough to hide anything for long... no offence."

Hermione raised an eyebrow of her own. "None taken."

"Well, it doesn't seem like she has much of a plan from what Harry's been telling me about her. It's only because she... saw us, well, talking really, that she even blackmailed him in the first place. She doesn't have much evidence, that's for sure, but I don't want any hints of this getting out for Harry's sake. I'm not somebody that anyone will think he should associate with." Draco clasped his hands together, clearly uncomfortable, yet he was still working with Hermione for Harry's sake.

_There's a love that runs deep if I ever saw one_, she observed, and felt a pang of sadness for Draco's plight, which kept on stooping to lower nadirs. She also felt a striking admiration, one that she had never felt towards him before, that he cared so much for another person, which he had always been incapable of earlier on. She found herself hoping that the almost impossible relationship between Harry and Draco could actually work in a world that would hate them for it. It was a small, frail hope, but still there.

"Well, we're just going to have to regroup again." Hermione concluded and Draco nodded, thoughtful.

"You know... if we haven't got anything to blackmail back with - though let's not give up on that," his eyes flickered upwards and away, "then perhaps it's time to try something more Gryffindor."

"You mean... confronting her?" Hermione asked cautiously, careful to remain composed even though she wanted to drop her jaw and stare. She had never heard him say something like that before, supporting Gryffindor ideals.

"As a last resort, yes," Draco said slowly, "because I don't want her annoying Harry too much. He's got... enough to think about."

They shared another glance. That was the first time they had even referenced the Horcruxes to one another, if the things did indeed exist. It was a mighty strange feeling, having Draco Malfoy know the exact same important secrets, but Hermione tried to look past the strangeness. She had to remember that Draco was essentially as good for Harry as she or Ron were now.

"I agree," she said quietly, feeling the familiar ache she felt whenever thinking of Harry's charge to defeat Voldemort. She could see the same ache reflected in the person sitting across from her. "Let's take that bitch down in any way we can."

Draco smiled, but there was little humour in it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Then came the night of Slughorn's Christmas party the weekend before they broke up for the holidays. Harry was currently standing in Draco's bathroom, looking at his dress robes dispassionately. It was true that they were a bit too short, even though Hermione had lengthened them as much as she could without ripping them, but he didn't much care. He brushed them down once, as if their dustiness really mattered to him, and stepped back out. Draco gave him what could only have been an appreciative look from where he sat in one of the chairs, then looked back to his book before Harry could properly register it.

Harry practically threw himself down on the sofa, feeling very put out, and sighed loudly and lengthily. Draco looked up again, this time with a raised brow.

"Trying to excavate all the air from your lungs and pass out won't much help anything, Harry. That girl would drag you to the party even if you died." Harry gave one quiet bark of laughter. Then he turned sombre and fixed Draco with a look that never meant any good.

"You know, if I could take you to this thing I would." Then he blushed. "I mean, you'd be much more entertaining than Alice. You're a better conversationalist for one.

Draco gave a wry smirk. "Pity everybody would hate us for it. The Golden Wonder Boy actually spending voluntary time with Draco the Rotten Wolf? Never."

"A few wouldn't, but I guess most people would." Harry sighed again and Draco considered throwing his book at him. Then he caught sight of Harry's expression and revised his plan of attack. Moving over the sofa, he chucked the book onto the recently vacated chair and looked at Harry.

"Hey," he said and left it at that. He didn't know exactly where he was going with this. All he could think about was how Harry's lips had felt in that one long-ago kiss or the heat of Harry's body lying next to his. Which wasn't helping much really.

"What?" Harry asked, staring back, and that unexplainable feeling of a pull around Draco's midriff kicked off again.

_That feeling is completely explainable_ the wolf commented. Draco didn't reply. He was too busy having a _bloody brilliant idea!_

"Hang on," he said, getting up and walking towards his room. He searched his draws for a few minutes and eventually found what he was looking for laying underneath a stray shirt. Then he headed back and thrust the object into Harry's palm, feeling extremely abashed. He wouldn't have been doing this in the first place if not to try and make Harry feel better.

"Erm, what is it?" Harry asked, turning over the small black object in his palm before opening it at the catch. "A mirror," he commented, blinked a few times, then smiled. He looked up and Draco's heart decided that it loved this particular shade of green even more than the one on his Slytherin crest. "Is this half of a pair?"

Draco raised his brows, pleasantly surprised. "How did you guess?"

Harry looked almost excited then, eyes cast back into a memory. "Well, my dad used to have one a bit like this when he back at school and he and Sirius-" then he fell into a deathly silence. All the colour drained from his face and his hands began to quiver.

"Harry?" Draco asked, unsure, until it clicked. Harry never talked about his godfather.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, looking pointedly away, but Draco was having none of that. He grabbed one of Harry's wrists and pulled him into an embrace with one arm, careful to catch the small mirror before it dropped to the floor. Setting it aside, he put the other arm around Harry's back and pulled him in closer. He closed his eyes and tilted his face into the crook of Harry's neck.

"Don't ever be sorry for that," was all he said. The rigidity he had felt in Harry since the beginning of close contact melted away then and they openly hugged one another, so tightly that it felt as if they were trying to meld into one skin. Harry's breathing was a little shaky, but apart from this they were silent. Draco even took the opportunity to do something he had wanted to for a long and secret while, lifting one hand and threading it gently through the hair at Harry's neck. He tried to take no pleasure from the way this would make Harry involuntarily shiver, but found he could not.

They could have stayed there for hours for all Draco knew, but when Harry started and pulled away, saying, "Shit, I've got to get going," it felt like milliseconds. They gave each other one last lingering look before Harry completely disentangled himself and sped to the door.

"Good luck," Draco called half-heartedly.

"Thanks," Harry said in a rush, "I'll need it." The door shut with a small bang.

Draco lay back on the sofa, emitted a soft groan. What was he doing?

So far he had been able to categorically deny his feelings over and over, at least to Harry, because Harry had always initiated everything (no matter how much Draco had pinned Harry down and had his dirty way with him in dreams he hoped the real Harry had no witness to) and Draco always had the excuse that he was just letting Harry do what he wanted.

But _this_, this was far different. He had hugged Harry, _he_ had stroked his back, _he_ had stroked his hair. There was definitely no escaping the truth of this, though he had already admitted his attraction to Harry on numerous occasions in his mind. Attraction was one thing, acting on an attraction a completely different game. His feeling towards the other boy was becoming as hard to deny as it was denying that he had magical ability or arms and legs.

He just hoped that the feelings Harry had felt as essential and innate as the ones Draco harboured did.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The party wasn't particularly spectacular looking, a general affair with a decent spread of food and drink, quietly playing music and people standing around in their dress robes. Harry was about to make his way over to where Ron and Hermione were, talking to a pair of Hufflepuffs, but Alice tugged on his arm commandingly.

"Harry, let's go get a drink," she ordered and dragged him over to the drinks stand, proceeding to pour him a glass of punch. Harry thought he needed Firewhisky more or at least strong mead, but made no comment. She then proceeded to stare at him for an unnerving while as he drank.

"Good punch," Harry said lamely, not knowing what the hell to do. What did she even want from him, really? Then he felt a little better when he realized the punch did have a bit of a kick to it. He then stared as Alice downed her punch and smiled.

"It's wonderful!" She said, eagerly, and grabbed his still half-full glass. "More?"

"Erm-" she filled it to the brim, hers as well, then downed another. Then she started surveying the room. Harry believed that he had found a way to make this night more bearable and quickly worked out a plan. "Yes, actually, I'd like another if that's okay. I'm very thirsty." He said whilst surreptitiously pointing his wand at the glass and whispered a quick_ evanesco_ spell. She then got them a _third_ glass and mechanically emptied hers in seconds.

Harry watched the room too, nodding at Ron as he whirled Hermione around the dance floor (the songs had become much louder and more upbeat) and watching the other dancers. Slughorn waved merrily from where he stood talking to somebody Harry didn't know, a tall and very pale looking man with terrible dark patches under his eyes, and Harry knew that he was in for a time being shown off and talked about by Slughorn later.

"Right," Alice said, voice slightly slurred already, "let's dance!" She then grabbed Harry's hand again - he was going to have half-moon scars from her nails by the end of the night - and dragged him onto the floor. Alice made him dance for an excruciating while, before spotting Ginny and Dean. "Ooh, let's go talk to them!"

Harry implanted another step in his plan. "I'll get us some drinks first."

"Brilliant plan...!" she had already dashed off, giving Harry a welcome break. At the drinks table, with nobody else around, he grabbed the little mirror out of his pocket, feeling the intricate patterns carved into it, and opened it curiously. There he found Draco pulling a face at him. He pulled one back, then closed the locket again. On the way back with drinks he felt a small glimmer of hope in this nightmare world of forced dances and smiles. He would _survive_ this if only because he was going to see Draco again later.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

After a few hours of being shown off by Alice and Slughorn, Harry was able to walk her back to the tower. She insisted on them holding hands the whole way there - it wasn't that she had bad hands or anything, as hands went, but Harry could only think of the way Draco's hand had brushed against his as he had stopped the mirror from falling onto the floor.

She was quite drunk, to be fair, so holding her hand was also imperative for her well-being. Her eyes looked quite unfocused and her co-ordination wasn't up to much - also, she was quieter, which was a relief. They got back to the Fat Lady's portrait and Harry helped her through it, just like any gentleman would. Then he planned to leave her to climb the stairs to the girl's dorm and leave it at that.

Nothing was ever that simple though. Harry should have known that already.

"Wait," she said just as he was thinking about retrieving his invisibility cloak and slipping out again. It was already midnight again - he wondered if Draco was already asleep or not.

"What's up?" He asked, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"I heard about you staying out the other night," she said, sounding more sober by each terrifying syllable, "You were with _him_, weren't you?" Her voice oozed with hatred and Harry winced.

"That's nothing to do with you," he said defensively.

"Yes it is!" She kept her voice low so it hissed. They were the only people in the common room, but there were the dorms to think about after all. "I am your girlfriend, Harry."

"Only because you forced me into it!" He hissed back, unable to control his anger. He'd had some of that punch too, not to mention _enough. _"You're not really my girlfriend at all."

She looked far too distressed then, Harry thought, as she replied. "You agreed to ask me out, Harry, you agreed!" She sounded terrified, in fact. "You can't just back out now. I'll tell your secret to everyone..."

Harry took a risk then, one he knew would make Draco want to kick him. "Go on then."

She went as white as a sheet, swaying on her feet. "Harry..." then she began to faint. Harry caught her out of instinct more than any feeling of compassion. Though he did feel a certain concern to the sheer amount of fear she had showed. Surely someone with her simple motives wouldn't feel she had that much to lose really? Could she really be that enamoured with Harry?

At this point Ron and Hermione both came through the portrait hole, giggling and slightly stumbling in Ron's case. They both halted on seeing Harry and a limp Alice.

"Oh goodness," Hermione said, "lay her on the couch!" With their help he did, laying Alice on her side. They all looked at her solemnly until Hermione broke the silence.

"Did she have too much to drink?"

"No," Harry said, "she wasn't really that drunk. She fainted from... well, fear mostly." He grimaced.

"What did you do?" Hermione asked, not sounding as disapproving as she usually would have, and Harry shrugged.

"I confronted her on blackmailing me to be with her."

"Bloody hell!" Ron piped up. "She was blackmailing you? Well that's not on."

"So what exactly did you say?" Hermione asked, urgent, and Harry cast his mind back.

"Well, she was telling me to stop seeing Draco altogether and I told her it had nothing to do with her. Then she threatened to spread it around that we're - friends, so I provoked her to. Then she fainted." He looked back and forth between Hermione, who was looking thoughtful, and Ron who was staring at Alice like she'd sprouted a much uglier second head.

"Well that means she didn't really have a leg to stand on," Hermione deduced. "But she really didn't want you to know that..." a shadow passed over her face momentarily, "Don't you think there might be more to it than she's letting on?"

"Well, personally I think she's a psycho," Ron added, "and that Harry should stay well away from her!"

"I couldn't agree more," Harry said zealously, though there was still a little voice nagging in the back of his mind about the strangeness of her behaviour. However, the loudest voice was the one repeatedly chanting time to see Draco, time to see Draco, time to see Draco...

"Do you think you could do me a favour and stay with her until she wakes up?" He gave them a sheepish smile. "There's somewhere I need to be."

Hermione gave a knowing nod and smile. "Come back earlier in the morning this time, otherwise there'll be far more rumours." Ron looked faintly green as Harry gave an embarrassed little laugh and climbed through the portrait hole. He would just have to think about all that later, for right now he just wanted to get to Draco's room and get some well-deserved sympathy.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Waking up next to Harry Potter when you hadn't expected it was certainly the nicest surprise Draco could think of. He half wondered if he was in some teasing dream, what with the way their legs were tangled together and Harry's chest was pushed up against his side, but when he moved it felt too real to be an illusion.

_I could definitely get used to this_, he thought as he shifted against to try and work out how many inches of their bodies were touching. The feel of Harry's skin was too distracting for counting, especially since some of the blood that could have been fuelling his brain was travelling elsewhere.

_If only you'd listened to me in the first place_, the wolf lamented, _then you would have had this much earlier on._

_Not everyone is as intent on rushing through each and every desire, you know_, Draco admonished the beast, _sometimes it's best to take things slowly._

Draco wondered when the wolf-voice of his inner desires and the voice he was more used to, one of repressing longings and keeping up unyielding appearances, would reunite into one again. For now, he would carry on playing these conversation games with himself.

He also wondered when Greyback's voice would next try to speak out to him - and whether he would be strong enough not to listen. But for now he would continue to curl up next to Harry, shifting his arm _just so_ so that he could lean further into Harry's radiating warmth, and listen to the mingling sounds of their slow breathing.

Sometimes it was best to put thoughts of the anxious future aside, just for a few reckless moments, to enjoy the fleeting present.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Alice Harvey woke up to something much less pleasant than a warm, willing body next to hers. She awoke with a flaming headache, eyes that felt too shrunken for her head and aches and pains in too many places. She unstuck one bleary eye and peered across the expanse of her bed to the Gryffindor red privacy curtains.

When all the memories of the night before came hurtling back to her she silently groaned and buried her head into her hands.

_He knows, he knows. Shit shit shit shit shit -_

Breakfast in the great hall was considerably worse. She could feel his eyes on her the entire time, black and cold and omnipresent in her life. She ate very little, wondering why she had even turned up beyond a desperate will for everything to be normal again, and left quickly despite her friend's questions. She was used to the questions by now.

When she shut herself in the dorm again there was a tap at the window. The owl was there, its eyes a cold reflection of its masters, and she took the scrap of parchment, unceremoniously tied with a small piece of black ribbon, before it could give her a painful nip.

With shaking hands she untied the ribbon, accidentally dropped it to the floor, and unravelled the parchment.

_I know he's found out. Don't think I couldn't tell when I saw you. I am not happy, Alice, and you know what will happen when I'm not happy._

This time she couldn't stop the tears from coming.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**A/N: I wanted to have Draco and Harry's perspectives on waking up next to one another, so there you go! :D And that was a blinking long chapter (the things I do for you! :D) Just kidding, I love writing lots after I've taken a longer than usual break from it.**

**Thank you vair much...**

**Imperial** **Mint** (Don't worry! Generally I'm sitting down when I read reviews... yeah, my dad's a stickler for the "disappointed look" - damn him! And with us I think a Daft Punk restraining order would be tripled :P I hope all your exams went swimmingly! :D) **magnusXalec** (turned out Alice messed it up herself :P I suppose Hermione can't come up with ultra-awesome plans all the time... though she is awesome!) **ninjadragons **(well, Harry being infected is not really forefront on my mind, but anything could happen really! And thank you very much for being so flattering! :D My head may explode with ego-boosts though...) **raralovesrock** (Ooo, I love sexual tension! Thanks for the review!) **HufflepuffWitch** (Well, things took a random turn due to my brain being unpredictable... but Hermione certainly won't take it easy on Alice.) **Slythindor Hybrid** (More Drarry in this chapter! :D) **Giselle Marx** (Sleeping in the same bed twice in this chapter! :D I've improved! And yay, I'm special!) **Nymphadora Potter** (Wow, that's a lot of subscribing! I subscribe to all my favourite authors and then some stories that are brilliant but mostly I only read complete works because I'm impatient :P which is terrible because so many people keep with me whilst I'm writing!) **Clover-night** (Ah, many things there I can't really comment on without giving lots away...) **alice22** (Sorry for unintentionally using your name for a mean character! XD) **littlesprout** (You sound like the perfect reviewer :D) **October in a box** (Hehe, yay for coke out of the nose? XD I'm glad it made you laugh though!)** bookworm19065** (Thank you for reviewing! :D) **erikatristens** (Oh, I thought you meant like first cousins! Okay, that makes far more sense :D yeah, I'm sad enough to have traced some of my distant cousins, which is actually considerably easier living on an island... one of my best friends is my fourth cousin!) **harryhermionerw** (Aww, I hope you're pitying Alice a teensy bit now? :P And I've never tried fanfiction on my phone... I'll have to check it out sometime!) **egoXlockheart** (Omigosh, have you read My Immortal, the most notorious fic on the web? That will make you roll around laughing - if you haven't type it into google, it was banned from ff a long while back. :D btw that conversation made me laugh a LOT! I was kind of thinking similar things, which is spooky...!) **tsuki aoi usagi** (Is 'usagi' is referring to Usami Akihiko from _Junjo Romantica_, or just a rabbit? :P I'm too obsessed with that anime! I enjoyed your feedback to my question :D and yes, sexy action later!) **F4LL3N-1NT0-0BL1V10N** (Fenrir is one creepy dude that's for sure :P) **madkat333** (Thank you very much! I'm trying to make the character's personalities as compliant as possible, so it's really great to hear feedback on that!) **Toxic Irresistibility** (I'm actually the same on the werewolf fics front, which is why it's a tad strange for me to be writing one, but I'm enjoying it so hey :D) Kayakokitty, **TheSecretUchiha** (I'm sorry, it gets slightly less sad! XD) **funnyducky** (The wolf!voice is more a prompt from Draco's inner desires than a separate being itself, such as lycanthropy - in my mind - is an infection and not like a separate being inside the body, but Draco converses because he finds stuff easier to deal with by compartmentalizing things, such as into different voices. That or he's crazy...) **shadowama** (Kudos for solid reading! :P Sorry about that btw, "conveniently" deleted all my separations because I used *'s and ff doesn't like that for some reason... when I can be asked I will put in new separations, but that involves uploading nearly every chapter again XD) **Star-Stuck Inu, koryssa-kory-, TRose23** (I seriously can't work out what you mean by felix... am I missing something really obvious here?) **MDarKspIrIt** (Thank you! :D I never thought I'd get this many reviews really... I'm lucky!) and **whiterose03** (Thanks for reviewing!)

**Question of the chapter nummer eins: Does anybody out there know of the musician Elliott Smith? I'm completely addicted to him right now! His song "Shooting Star" reminds me of Harry thinking about a past relationship with Draco that's ended badly (see! There was a relation to Drarry in my mentioning him...)**

**Question of the nummer zwei: Who do you like top and who bottom in Drarry? Personally I like to mix it up :D**


	30. Dreading

_Dreading_

And so began the holidays. Just minutes after waking up, Harry stood at the window of Gryffindor common room and watched as fellow students, from tiny first years to toweringly confident seventh years, stream out of the school and towards the gates. He felt no sadness at watching them leave - all the people he most liked to spend time with would still be there after all.

He stretched, hearing the satisfying pops in his spine as he tried to mentally lift the fog of morning out of his brain. Ron was still fast asleep and, because it was Sunday and the holidays, he decided not to rouse him. Then he turned from the window, grabbed the pile of clothes at the bottom of his bed and headed towards the showers.

Turning on the water, which came out first with a rattling spurt then a clean sheen of water, he stepped under the spray and stood there for a few minutes, eyes closed and mind content. His life had reached one of its rare peaks of peace - no lessons and homework to fret about, no Alice to dread, no Dark Lords or Death Eaters in the near vicinity and less worries about how Draco was doing.

For now everything was good.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Alice knew as soon as she reached the platform at Hogsmeade that her nightmares were coming true. He was waiting for her there, even though he wasn't leaving Hogwarts, waiting with eyes honed dangerously onto her. She walked slowly, tried to calm her erratic breathing, and stopped in front of him. She was in hell.

"You will get on the train," he began to say quickly and tonelessly, "You will act calmly the whole way. When you get to your stop don't expect to find your parents there. They are not dead... for now. Find your way home - I know it's not far - and wait for your punishment. If you don't go home or inform anybody then your parents will surely die. If you go home quietly you still have a chance to live."

Then he walked away. She felt the bag of money in her hand, not being able to remember how it got there or anything around her for a few moments before trying to collect herself. She got onto the train and got a compartment all to herself, deftly avoiding her friends. Everything felt so numb that she couldn't even scream out or cry.

She wanted the feverish journey to never end, for she dreaded what she would find at the end of it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Severus Snape was in a meeting. It was not a Professors' Meeting, where you would expect Dumbledore's melodic tones, McGonagall's terse chatter and precarious amounts of lemon drop wrappers and a pair of Sprout's covering the table. This was a Death Eater meeting, which was far, far less pleasant.

This time he had to be triply as attentive as he usually was, for there were many things he was trying to find out. Firstly, more about this potion the Dark Lord had given to Draco before Fenrir bit him to make him bend to the other werewolf's will, and also what some of the Death Eaters were currently up to.

A few of the Death Eater's had quietly been bribed out of Azkaban, namely Yaxley, Dolohov, Nott and Avery, because ever since Draco's escape the Dark Lord had been keen to keep the lowest possible profile - but he still needed his underlings back to serve him. Bellatrix, Lucius and a few others were still locked up, but Severus knew that soon they would also be released. The Order knew this too, but the trouble was the Dark Lord would never divulge any specific time.

There were some noticeable absences at the table already though and he was certainly eager to know where Yaxley and Avery had gone - but not foolish enough to ask and draw attention to himself.

The Dark Lord had divested neither plan to him, which was troubling - perhaps he was less trusted than he had previously thought? That or the Dark Lord was being even more careful than usual since Draco's escape from the Manor. As far as Severus knew he was not suspected of having a hand in that - he understood that the Dark Lord knew Draco was at Hogwarts and under Dumbledore's protection, but nothing of his friendship with the still insufferable Harry Potter (which really was a mixed blessing in Severus' opinion) and nothing about Severus', albeit distant, extension of help to Draco.

Severus had mostly told him lies when it concerned Draco - it was risky on Severus' part, but he would not give away any information that could endanger Draco further, even if just one little lie and slip of his mental defences would end up killing him. They were each a risk he had to take.

"So," Red eyes turned onto him, "What is your news on the wolf pup?" A few titters erupted along the table, though Bellatrix's insane laughter was still noticeably absent, and Snape saw with a flicking glance Narcissa paling enough to look faint despite her still, calm expression. "Has he left the Hogwarts grounds yet? I hope you have been keeping watch on him."

"I'm afraid not, my Lord," he replied, bowing his head, "Dumbledore is keeping him close. He rarely leaves the castle, let alone the grounds." He conveniently didn't mention the time he had escorted Draco to Hogsmeade, putting a subtle disillusionment charm on them both to deter unsavoury eyes. "I am still working on a solution."

"I trust you are putting in full effort?" The Dark Lord's wand twitched in his hand, but Severus had trained himself never to flinch at that. It was just another threat tactic.

"My best, Lord," Severus tried to sound ingratiating enough, "I live to serve your wishes."

"Thank you, Severus," he said dismissively before turning to the general table. "Yaxley and Avery are currently at the Muggle house. Dolohov," one of the hoods nodded, "I want you to check on them. Make sure they're doing an adequate job."

The Dark Lord now turned to Nott, who was looking even paler than Narcissa and far less composed. Why was that? "I never condemn the death of Muggles, Nott, but I am feeling sour on doing it to make up for your son's feeble mistakes. Let it happen again and I will dispose of him."

For the first time in a while Severus felt a flicker of dread. Why didn't he know about any of this? Since when was Theodore Nott working for the Death Eaters? Was he marked and without Severus there for the ceremony? Why did he still not know more about the properties of Draco's potion?

Why was he so out of the loop?

"You are all dismissed," the Lord said with a wave of one skeletal hand. Everybody rose and bowed. Nott left the room quickly; a fear Severus had never thought the hardened man capable of was clear on his face. Narcissa left soon after, looking gaunt but expressionless. The other remaining Death Eaters filed out sombrely and Severus turned to leave. He reached the end of the long, extravagant dining table then -

"Stop, Severus," the words he had dreaded came and he came to a halt, turning again. The red eye was on him, fathomless and unyielding. He forced himself not to shiver, not to show any weakness or fear. He was Severus Snape, serious and emotionless. Nothing could shake the solid foundation of his calm.

"You may be wondering why you know so little of my most recent plans," he said slowly, not rising from his throne-like chair, "and I will answer your questions now. For a while I have suspected you of betrayal, loyal Severus, since the escape of the little Malfoy dog. But on further inspection there is no trace of you connected to the incident, so for now I shall keep you. Remember that disloyalty to me means death, Severus."

Severus didn't need to be reminded - the possibility of it both haunted him and kept him motivated to be as careful and cunning as he could. "Yes, my Lord," he replied, letting the relief he felt flood his voice. The other man seemed satisfied with this response.

"Good," he said darkly, "now I want you at the house of those scum who need to be disposed of. Young Nott tried to use a Mudblood girl at Hogwarts to prise Harry Potter away from the Malfoy runt. You see, Fenrir's mind connection to the runt has already begun to work, though distantly, and he could pick up on its protectiveness towards that _boy_."

_Shit._

"The Nott boy's attempt was not successful, which goes to show him that you cannot trust those filthy Mudbloods to do anything competently. We are disposing of her - and her parents, who Nott used to make her comply. You see, his mission to prove him of Death Eater standard is to take away Draco's trust in Potter and Dumbledore and leave him vulnerable to us again. I would have asked you to do more work towards it, of course, except that I have a different mission for you."

"Yes, my Lord?" Severus asked, forcing himself to raise his eyes. He felt a crushing emptiness of disappointment inside - the Dark Lord had known much more than he had thought.

"I want you to try and befriend the wolf-child and lead him to our side, whilst subtlety encouraging his mind to accept Fenrir's control through Legilimency. Then, when Draco is completely taken over, on the full moon he will _kill_ Albus Dumbledore."

So that had always been the final plan. Severus didn't think the Dark Lord had yet revealed that to any of his followers - using the logic that he concocted the plan before Draco was even bitten - and was filled with relief that once again he was truly in his confidences.

"A brilliant plan, my Lord," he said upon realising the Dark Lord was scrutinising him for reaction, "I will do my utmost to implement it."

"See that you do." Another wave of the hand and Severus was free of that room for a few more days. He found Narcissa standing in the drawing room the other side of the Manor, as they had hurriedly planned, and she looked up from her listless staring.

"Severus," she said dully, "how is he?"

"Fine," he whispered, "do you know when...?" He let the question hang - she would know. A shake of the head and a bite of the lip showed that she knew nothing about the release of Lucius Malfoy. "I see," he said and then left. They could never be too careful about what was overheard during their talks.

He took one last look at the sallow skin and sunken eyes before he left - the pain of loss and regret reminded him so intensely of his own he could not let his eyes linger.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"_Formidonis_", Harry whispered and the Centaur gave one kick of its hoof before the door to Draco's room unlocked and slowly opened. The choice of Draco's passwords, random words in their Latin equivalents, were always made known to Harry and he couldn't help a little glow of pride that somebody trusted him so implicitly beyond his own House that he could know how to enter their most personal space.

He found no Draco in the living room, so decided to check the bedroom. It really wasn't unrealistic to find him in bed at 12pm on weekends or holidays. There was nobody there either. Then he heard the distant sounds of a shower running and deduced that the bathroom was the place.

He gave a little shiver of pleasure imagining what it would be like to just barge in on Draco wet and naked, but then shook his head and smiled to himself. Surely he had more restraint than _that!_

Instead he decided to hide under Draco's bed covers until the prat came out of the shower to give him a scare - so he wouldn't be a pervert, but he could still be immature right? Plus it was comfy and, admittedly, it was nice that the duvet smelt faintly of Draco.

Hey lay there for a few minutes, ignoring the impulse to laugh childishly and wriggle around, until he heard a door open, then another, then the steady pad of feet across the bedroom floor. Then a draw opening, then an absent-minded hum.

"What to wear... what to wear..."

Harry felt another shiver. Was he still just in a towel? Or not wearing anything at all? Suddenly this felt less childish and more perverted and wrong. Now panicking, he wished he could dissolve through the mattress into a little puddle on the floor and evaporate.

He heard a yawn. "Oh, screw it."

Then the bed covers started moving. Harry cringed and waited for the indignant shout or a nasty hex. Instead he just heard a throat being cleared amusedly.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

"... Sleeping." He refused to open his eyes, though talking had thoroughly ruined that lie anyway.

"Fully clothed?"

"... Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not particularly."

Then he heard and felt the bed creak as Draco lay down next to him, just so that their bodies were touching side to side. Harry went as a stiff as a board when he realized, due to his rolled up shirtsleeves and a ridden up trouser-leg of his own, that Draco was _only wearing underwear_.

"Harry, you've gone beetroot." Then Draco laughed and poked him in the cheek.

Harry opened his eyes just because he had to really. Yes, he definitely was wearing just underwear. And he was laughing - he always looked more attractive when he laughed. He spent a few seconds admiring him, loving everything from the pale, creamy skin that made up most of him to the indelible scar on his shoulder from the bite. _You really are rather beautiful._

"What?" The laughter died away.

"What do you mean, what?" Harry asked worriedly. What had he done?

"You just, well..." Draco abruptly closed his mouth and looked away, folding his arms. "I'm not _beautiful_ like some _girl_. I'm a man, thank you very much."

Any mortification that could have arose from realising that he had thought aloud (which he really did do far too much for his own good, really) died when he heard that. It was just such a silly Draco thing to say, how could he not laugh?

"Shut up!" Draco exclaimed, "I'm offended!"

"Then why are you so red now?" Harry pointed out helpfully, still smirking.

"Red with rage!"

"Whatever you say..."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Ron, something isn't right," Hermione said after a long time staring into space with a frown on her face - something Ron knew meant she was thinking very deeply about some matter or another. He resignedly put down the Quidditch magazine he had been flicking through and waited for the revelation.

"You see, it's Alice Harvey. I know, I know, as much as we don't like her," Ron tried to erase his scowl, "I feel like something just isn't right. I mean, assuming her only motive was to be with Harry out of wanting attention from him or because of him, she wouldn't have been panicked enough to faint if he challenged her. Plus, she had something to use against him in case he did - so why did she give up so quickly? What if there's something or someone else involved in this?"

Ron shrugged. "I'm just glad she's not hounding Harry any more, the poor bloke. Even, even Malfoy's better for him than that girl was..." but he still couldn't think of Harry being with Malfoy - Draco - without shuddering. It was impossible.

"But she was so distraught..." the frown deepened, "even after I got her up to the seventh year dorm with Ginny's help - I told her Alice had drunk too much, which was probably still quite accurate - she woke up at one point and started crying out in anguish. I couldn't really tell what it was about - she was still slurring - and at the time I was too angry with her to pay proper attention. But she was talking about her family - what does that mean?"

Even though she would probably carry on talking without his contribution, Ron contributed with "Hmm, I don't know."

"There's more to this than we see," Hermione concluded, "but not much we can do about it now. She went home for the holidays after all, most people did. If anybody was involved they're probably not even here at the moment, if they were in the first place."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Harry woke again and it had passed 1pm. He felt surprised - he'd always been rubbish at getting to sleep at night, let alone in the middle of the day. He shifted and felt a familiar and comfortable weight against him - smiling despite himself, he brushed a stray lock of hair out of Draco's eyes. Then he remembered, once again, the whole _underwear _situation, and though he could try to ignore it mentally his body had other plans.

Before his half-erection could go beyond the point of no return, he resentfully got out of the bed and stretched once again. Wanting to find something to do other than watch Draco and inevitably get even harder than he was, he reached inside his pocket and took out the battered old piece of parchment that was the Marauder's Map.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he whispered and there was Hogwarts School in ink, ready for his perusal. The school was even emptier than he thought - there were only six Gryffindor, five Ravenclaw, four Hufflepuff and three Slytherin students in the whole school. He could see two of the Gryffindors, Ron and Hermione, in the common room and the other three, a group of third years, out running around in the snow. All the Ravenclaws were in the library, predictably to their stereotype, and all the Hufflepuffs down by the frozen lake.

As for the Slytherins, one he had never heard of, probably a first year, was in the common room. Draco was asleep next to him. Theodore Nott - well, he was in the Room of Requirement.

Harry's pulse began to race unpleasantly. What was he doing in there? He was just going to have to find out...

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**A/N: Ello. Latest excuses: I was on a school trip and now I have tonsillitis! Not really the best mind for writing, but I've had a go :P**

**Many many many thankyous to...**

**BetterLateThanNever** (Thank you! I'm trying to get the balance right so it's great to hear that someone thinks so.) **Slythindor Hybrid** (Ah well, we find out here it sort of wasn't Voldie so suspense lost I suppose :P) **Carol** (Big bit of fluff this time! Just for you :D) **magnusXalec** (lmao, moldiewort! and mixed up is best! :D) **erikatristens, Greta Marx **(Sorry this chapter isn't as long D: but it's got more plot than usual :P) **Byzantea** (Hooray for fluff! :D Maaaaajor fluffy bits in this chapter too!) **Star-Struck Inu** (Yeah, I never really planned out where to go with the Alice sub-plot, she could have just been obsessed :P) **Clover-night** (I love plot-twists so thought I'd have a go! And on the top/bottom front I completely agree!) **xiahans** (Ahaha! Nosebleed indeed :P even if that doesn't happen in the fic I'm sure I could do a one-shot about it XD) **unhappytidings **(Ahh, suspense is the best :D) **miss quirky bookworm** (Yeah, I feel sorry for Alice now :/ which is weird because I wrote this in the first place :P ah well!) **Geo Nova** (thanks for reviewing!) **alice22 **(Hey, you're called Alice too! Stick up for your homegirls! :P) **Misbehaving Mom **(thank you! :D I'm trying to make it as realistic as a Drarry fanfiction can be, really, so I'm glad you like it!) **JaceDamian23** (Thankyou! And that is true, but if you read further on that begins to make sense :D) **egoXlockheart** (XD yeah, some people still hate Alice. I can understand why but still... poor girl :P And if you thought the last chapter was fluffy then what about the fluff scene in this one?) **The-Real-Yaoi-Fanboy** (BEST REVIEW EVER! :D Seriously, it matters a lot to me :) reviews are pretty much the reason I keep on writing fanfiction! And cheers for the story recommendation! :D I will go take a look at it when I next have the time.) **bookworm09165** ('Fraid not! I've pretty much given it away now... ah well!) **Nymphadora Potter **(I rarely subscribe to stuff anymore D: it's terrible! But I suppose that's how it is when you start writing your own ff stories. Once I'm finished I'll subscribe to millions of things probably :P) **phantomfish **(Yay for Snape! :D I love his character, always have - even when I used to think he was evil before DH smashed up that perception :P) **shadowama** (haha, yes! Harry needs a sexual break from saving the world obviously :P) **1Twilighter** (Yeah, I can never find decent Veela fics either. Although Lomonaaeren wrote one a while back... and she's always good!)

**p.s. In a few days I'm off to Canada for two weeks! (Hopefully minus the tonsillitis, but hey.) So updates are going to come slowly if they come at all for that time :P Sorry! Real Life takes up so much of my day sometimes...**

_p.p.s. Moment of Crack Concern number... uh... billionty: _

_"Harry, what are you doing?"_

_"... Sleeping." _

_"In a nurse's uniform?"_

_"... Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"_

_"Not particularly."_

**:D I'm so normal.**


	31. PLEASE DON'T GET EXCITED

This has been long overdue...

I'm afraid that PBW has to go on hiatus for now. This does not mean I am completely giving up on it, but updates will be irregular at best.

I am simply spending too much time concentrating on my final year of school before university - sorry to disappoint you! I have had some wonderful readers during the course of this story and your reviews were all amazing, they really encouraged me and made me think.

Again, I really am sorry if you feel disappointed, if it was up to me I'd spend lots of time writing, but I guess I've got to get my priorities in order. Though I will still write things when I can! Probably shorter stories and one-shots.

Thank you all for sticking with this despite me being a fail,

**Purplerawr x**


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